


Another Time and Place

by bedb



Category: Historical Fiction, Winter Soldier - Fandom
Genre: Buffalo Hunting, Drug Abuse, F/M, Grand Duke Alexei hunts buffalo, Kidnapping, Natasha is a countess, US Grant is president
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedb/pseuds/bedb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between 1869 and 1872 during the famous hunt out west of Grand Duke Alexei. Pierce is a Russian count contemplating murder. Countess Natalia has to prevent it. Her horror is learning the would be assassin is the man she loves. </p><p>Much of this is historically accurate. Only the Marvel characters and real people are not mine. They belong to Marvel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Countess and the Cowboy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for the Tumblr Bucky/Nat challenge, but I didn't get it drafted quick enough so I dropped out.
> 
> Dedicated to my facebook friend Cee Bee who said I just needed to go ahead and do it. Not a long story but hopefully an interesting one.
> 
> Bloody Bill Anderson was the most notorious of the Missouri guerillas. Taught the James and Youngers how to fight. Killed in an ambush.

Natasha held his head as the dry heaves racked his body. Beneath the quilts he was nude to make keeping him clean easier, but it had been two days since he last had anything solid in his body. She hated that she had to keep his hands tied behind his back, but it was the only way she could control his thrashing when the cramps became unbearable. 

“I can’t stand it,” he panted and writhed against her. “Shoot me. Oh God, please I can’t stand it!” 

She caressed his face and repeated for the hundredth time, “It will be over soon. Soon” It was hard for her, seeing this broken wreck of a man who had once been her beautiful lover suffer through the opium withdrawal. She continued caressing his face and ran her thumb along his lower lip. “Soon moya lyubov'.” The moment James was well, they were going to make Count Aleksandr Prokolot' pay for this.

1869

The inaguration ball of President U S Grant, hero of the American Civil War, was the social event of not just the season but the known world. Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich of Russia was a guest at the gala representing the court from St. Petersburg with an entourage of ten fellow Russians.

Countess Natalia Alianova Romanova sipped a glass of champagne and smiled pleasantly as Colonel Nick Fury tried to impress her with his wit and charm. Of course he was spending more time gazing at her ample bosom and pale shoulders than paying attention to their conversation. Her red hair, coiffed perfectly with scarlet ringlets gracing her slender throat gleamed beneath the crystal chandelier while the emerald necklace encircling her neck shown with an inner ]green fire that matched her silk gown. 

Spying someone he knew, Colonel Fury called out, “Capt. Rogers, come meet the countess.” Natalia turned as a tall handsome blond man approached them. “Capt. Steven Rogers, this is Countess Natalia Romanova. Countess, Capt. Rogers.”

“I am honored, countess,” he said with a charming smile and kissed her offered gloved hand, weighed down by a large emerald and pearl ring.

Fury, seeing someone else he needed to speak with, said,“Countess,I regret I must leave you, but Capt. Rogers will be happy to show you around.”

“I am enchanted,” she replied and smiled at the handsome captain. Taking his arm, she followed him to the buffett table where they sampled the little delacies that were arranged there. A waiter came over and offered more champagne, which Natalia accepted but Capt. Rogers declined. “I don’t drink,” he explained.

Ah, a man who didn’t drink. She had never met a man who didn’t drink. “Perhaps I need to make this one last,” she said as if in jest. Regrettably the night was still very young, and she was going to require all her fortitude to get through this event. The Grand Duke was enjoying himself, which was what really mattered, but seeing no real prospects for a more entertaining evening, her tea totalling captain now off the list, Countess Natalia accepted her fate of another dull evening.

Capt. Rogers smiled and said, “Not necessary, ma’am.”

Ma’am? “Please call me Natalia, or Countess,” she responded kindly, now certain the captain was too polite to be adventurous. Still he was a handsome arm to cling to until something better, if possible could be, found. Remembering to keep an eye on the Grand Duke, she glanced his way and found him talking to Colonal Fury and another man that she had not noticed earlier, but he had noticed her. Beneath the low swept brim of his hat, he stared at her with heat in his eyes. He was absolutely breathtaking in a dangerous primitive way. She could see the low slung pistol belt beneath his dark coat, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was drinking something a little stronger than champagne with the small black cigar that he was smoking. Two, possibly three vices at the same time, and handsome as well. Her prospects looked better. 

Unfortunately before she could guide her escort into the company of those men, Count Aleksandr Prokolot' and his pet Cossack, Blagorodnyy joined them. In his youth Prokolot’ had been a handsome and charming man, but in his old age he was just wicked and dangerous.

“Capt. Rogers,” she spoke up and took a sip from her glass, “do you know who that man is with Count Prokolot’ and Colonel Fury?”

Capt. Rogers glanced their way and grinned. “Buck! It’s Buck. I didn’t know he was back in town. Come I will introduce you.”

Natalia smiled as they approached the group, her eyes on the striking man who was grinning and moving forward to shake Capt. Rogers’ hand. They shook hands and seemed just so happy to see each other. “Buck, I want you to meet Countess Natalia of Russia. She’s here with the Duke.”

“Countess, it is my pleasure” he drawled softly and accepted her offered hand. He kissed it without taking his eyes off her. When he released it and straightened, she could see that he was affected by their meeting, if only in that uniquely male way that she was oh so familiar with.

“Are you from Texas, Mr. Barnes?” she asked curiously, charmed by his accent.

“No ma’am,” he answered with a lazy smile, “but I was down there for a little while and it takes me some time to get rid of the accent.” 

“Perhaps you should keep it. I find it charming,” she said, ignoring the other men staring at her. Let them go about their business, she had found her conquest for the evening. He would be so easy to seduce.

“Perhaps I will then,” he said graciously and raked her with his eyes. 

“Are you a frontiersman then, Mr. Barnes?” she continued coyly.

Fury, seeing that his discussion with Barnes was now officially over, interrupted them. “Barnes, we’ll continue this in my office tomorrow morning.”

“Certainly,” he answered crisply and then turned back to Natalia. “I am what my government needs me to be Countess.”

Fury rolled his eyes and then wandered off with the Grand Duke, while Capt. Rogers suddenly had something he needed to attend to but promised to return. This left his friend in the company of the Russians. Count Aleksandr spoke up, “I have heard a lot about you cow boys and frontiersmen.” 

Barnes threw him a thin smile and then answered dryly. “I’ve been a spy for the Union army, Count, I’ve been up the Chisholm trail, I’ve spent a month with the Comanche and Kiowa. I can out shoot and out ride just about any man alive, so I guess in a way I am a frontiersman or cowboy.”

“Really?’ the count replied with great interest. “Care to display this prowess?”

“Not now,” Buck replied and let his eyes slide back to Natalia.

It didn’t take the count long to figure out that the frontiersman was interested in only one person in their little group. “Ah, yes. Perhaps in the near future?”

“Perhaps,” Buck responded. He waited for the count and his Cossack shadow to disappear before addressing the countess. “Countess, I just got in and I need a bath and a woman. If all you’re interested in is flirting, then we need to part company.”

Natalia smiled at the brash handsome man. “American men don’t flirt, Mr. Barnes?”

“Oh, I can flirt with the best of them,” he retorted with a grin and then finished off his drink. “Except that I have a near month of dirt on me, and I really want a woman.” 

There was a moment where she sized him up trying to decide if she was THAT attracted to him. Dark trousers tucked into scuffed black boots, spurs (she liked spurs), light blue shirt with tears and spills on it, and a dark coat that had seen better days. His hair was longish, probably intentional, and when she fixed her eyes on his face, he was smiling with a rakish look in his eyes. “Will you put the same dirty clothes back on?” she asked curiously.

“Why? Are you interested?”

“If I can burn those, then yes, I might be interested.”

He grinned now and grabbed a champagne glass off the tray of a passing waiter. Gulping it down with one swallow and returning it to the tray, he said, “They’re like their owner, all they need is a good scrubbing, but I do have some clean clothes.”

“Well then, Mr. Barnes, why don’t we meet in an hour at my hotel room, and I will have some hot water waiting for you.”

“And where might I find this hotel?” he asked casually.

She told him and then said, “I will be waiting, Mr. Barnes. Do not disappoint me.”  
“Wouldn’t think of it,” he answered.

Count Aleksandr watched as the countess departed the gala and a few minutes later the cow-boy made his exit. He pursed his lips but made no comment to Blagorodnyy, at least not about their departures. Finally turning to the Cossack, he said, “We need to see if Mr. Barnes is as good as he says he is.” 

 

Natalia had a tub of hot water prepared and was wearing a simple form fitting white shift with her hair down when ‘he’ knocked on the door. Opening a crack to make sure it was him, she opened it wider so he could come inside. “As requested,” she said and motioned to the metal tub not far from the window.

“As requested,” he repeated and showed a bundle of clean clothes that he tossed on the bed. Sitting in an embroidery bottomed chair, he took off his spurs and then his boots while she stood back watching. “You know you could help me with them,” he playfully admonished her. 

“They are dirty,” she responded unapologetically. There was no telling what was caked on his boots.

He grinned and stuck a small cheeroot cigar into his mouth and looked around. “Got a light?” Standing up he unbuckled his pistol belt and set it on the bed while she found a lucifer to light his smoke. Lighting one, she held it up while he took off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. He puffed on the flame until the cheeroot caught fire “Thank you,” he said and removed the shirt. It landed on the floor.

Natalia couldn’t hide her amusement or fascination with his body. He was indeed a beautiful man who was taking his time getting undressed. “The water is getting cold,” she reminded him.

“I was wondering if you were going to watch me undress all the way. Most ladies I know usually turn away ‘bout now.”

“Do they?” Natalia asked and attacked the heavy belt buckle that held his pants up. “Why?”

“Damned if I know,” he replied and removed the small cigar from his mouth. She got the belt buckle undone than attacked the buttons on his trousers. “You gonna wash me, too?” he asked with a wicked grin on his face.

“If I need to,” she answered, “but if I need to probably means you will be sleeping in your own room.”

He skinned off the rest of his clothes, gave her a peek at his other gun and then stepped into the water. It was good and hot, and a contented sigh escaped his lips as he settled back in it. A bar of soap plopped into the water followed by a wash cloth. “Mind if I just soak a minute or two?” he asked hopefully. He laid his head back and promptly dozed off. Natalia took the drooping cheeroot out of his mouth and set it in the ashtray before it fell out of his mouth and burned him. This gave her a chance to get a good look at him.

He was remarkably handsome with wide shoulders and a deep muscled breast. And his hands were beautiful for a man… velvet over steel. Reaching into the water, she grabbed the wash cloth and soaped it up. He stirred when she ran it over his left shoulder, but when he saw it was just her, he smiled and laid his head back. “Are you going to throw me out?” he asked contentedly.

“I should but no,” she answered as his moving splashed water over her. Now her thin shift was wet and nearly transparent accentuating her full bosom. He liked what he saw. “Do I meet your approval?” she asked curiously at the lusty look on his face.

“Oh, yes ma’am,” he answered as her hand moved lower down his body. When she found what she was looking for, he caught his breath and then settled into her intimate touch with a groan. The lady knew what she was doing. After a minute he foreed himself to concentrate and said, “You might want to ease up on that. It has been awhile.”

She flashed a toothsome grin and stood up. “Have it your way, cowboy.” While he dried off, she removed his clean clothes and weapons from the bed and laid them on a quilt chest at the foot of it, then drew the covers and quilts back before slipping out of the wet shift. Nude, pale and perfect, she climbed under the covers and waited for him to join.

“I fear there is no discreet way to drop this towel and join you,” he said with a smile that spread across his handsome face. And there wasn’t but the countess didn’t seem to mind. She watched him with dark heat in her blue eyes, her lips parting in a carnal smile. The moment he joined her, they kissed. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes found himself on the receiving end of her passion. In stead of being shocked or insulted by her taking over, he placed himself in her hands and responded in kind.

She invaded his mouth with her tongue, something he had heard about but had never experienced, good girls finding it repulsive, and him not wanting to kiss whores, but she sparred with him until he reciprocated in kind. It was so wicked, her sucking on his tongue, but he loved it. She moved to his throat and played with his nipples, something else he had never experienced before. What did this woman not know? 

The countess straddled his stomach but did not try to mount him. With her hands on his breast, her nails toying with his surprisingly sensitive nipples, she gazed down at him and said, “I expect much from my lovers, James. If you are not up to satisfying me, to giving me pleasure, then we will complete this now and you can leave. Do what I ask, and I will fuck you dry.”

Buck wanted to be fucked dry. He wanted to forget all the lonely nights that he had slept on the ground doing the government’s work. All the nights he had missed the comfort of a woman. 

He was familiar with whores who had gone down on him for a price, but no woman had ever asked him to return the favor. He knew there were men who did this sort of thing, and he’d seen more than his fair share of bulls licking the cunts of their cows, but this was new to him. She expected him to do the same thing. He was hesitant at first, but then something clicked in his brain. This woman desired him, and it was his pride that drove him to please her. And he liked it. Liked her taste and smell, her moans of pleasure as she played with her own tits. He wanted her come on his face, to taste her juice as she gave herself to him. 

She moaned her needs to him, let him know what she liked and how she liked it. And she was so beautiful, her long red hair loose around her shoulders caressing her breasts as she surrendered to the growing fire in her belly. 

Moving just enough, he held her by her thighs and growled, “Come for me, baby.”

Countess Natalia imploded on his face filling James with an animal pride that he was able to make this beautiful woman come for him. There was something sacred about having her scent in his nose and her taste on his tongue. She moved back when she was ready and cleaned his face with her mouth. When her lips closed over his, he was certain there was no other woman like her.

Keeping him on his back, she wasted no time returning the favor. Nibbling, sucking and licking her way down his body, she reached his cock and took him deep down her throat. Whores had sucked him, but this woman played with him, touched him intimately and enjoyed the moans he couldn’t hold back. She also knew how to apply just enough pressure to keep him from coming too quickly. His lovers in the past had always tried to hurry things along, but the countess was letting him build until he was half out of his mind with lust. When she decided to let him come, and he would not have had it any other way. Clawing the sheets, he unloaded into her mouth.

Sliding up his body, dragging her breasts over his heated skin, she reached his mouth and kissed him so he could taste himself. The countess was the most incredible and sexiest woman that he’d ever met. Wrapping his arms around her slender waist, he sighed, “That was niee.”

She arched a fine brow and said, “We’re not done yet, cowboy.”

“Really?” he asked incredulously. He wanted to growl Hot Damn but behave himself.

“Really,” she assured him and caressed his face.

More sex was good. And falling asleep in a clean warm bed beside a beautiful woman made it perfect. It was even better waking up beside her and fucking her slowly, finding her kisses just as erotic as the night before. He was ruined, ruined for all other women.

Natalia had to admit that the beautiful man climbing out of her bed was more than a little interesting. Slipping on her robe and climbing out of bed, she said, “Leave your dirty clothes. I will have house keeping wash them for you.”

Sitting in a chair to pull on his boots, he looked up and smiled, his expression reminding her of a very wicked boy. “That would be nice, thank you.”

“Would you like me to contact room service and get us breakfast?” she asked and poured some fresh water in a basin. While he watched, she freshened herself. And she knew what she was doing to him.

He couldn’t help himself; watching her wash her breasts and throat made him horny. Get a grip Barnes! “I’m already late for my meeting with Colonel Fury,” he explained breathlessly and stood up. “Perhaps I can show you around town, or we could go for a ride,” he offered hopefully.

“I would like that,” she said and washed her right leg, her foot propped on a stool. “Until you return then.”

He was so busy watching her run the cloth over her shapely pale leg that he almost forgot he had to leave. Remembering when someone knocked on the door, he hissed, “Shit, I need to go.”

“No one is stopping you, Mr. Barnes,” she laughed and closed her robe.

He grinned and opened the door. It was house keeping. A Black woman with a warm face, smiled at him and said, “Good morning, Capt. Barnes.”

“Good morning,” he replied and strode purposefully back down the passage.

Natalia, over hearing the woman, asked, “What did you call him?”

“Capt. Barnes, miss,” she said and brought clean linens and towels into the room from a cart in the hall.

“He is a captain?”

“Not no more,” she answered and got busy draining the bath water through a hose out the window into a drainage ditch. “He was in the great war.”

“He would have been quite young during the war,” Natalia remarked curiously.

“Yessem,” the woman said and then righted herself. “You don’t know who he is?”

“Not a lot,” Natalia admitted. “Should I?”

“Why ma’am, that’s the man who shot Bloody Bill Anderson, the meanist man in Missoura. He was little more than a boy when he killed that bad man.” 

 

Fury was about to send a detail out to drag Barnes to his office, when the errant agent showed up with a cheeroot in his mouth. “I see you survived the countess,” Fury remarked caustically.

“I beg you not to speak ill of my future wife,” Barnes said and took a seat in the overstuffed leather chair in front of Fury’s desk.

“Your wife?” Fury countered in amazement. “Does she know this?”

“I’ve not mentioned it yet.” 

“Well, I think that might be something she would be interested in knowing.”

 

Now 

Capt. Rogers could not watch Buck go through the delerium tremors for long. How Natasha was able to do it amazed him. “Do I need to get you anything? Food? Coffee?” he asked the woman holding his momentarily unconcious friend.

“Can you sit with him while I stretch my legs?” she asked quietly, keeping her voice calm and soothing. James was exhausted but the least disturbance could set him off again. “Don’t let his head fall back; he could choke or swallow his tongue.”

“I won’t,” Rogers assured her. Holding Buck protectively in his arms, he imagined what he was going to do to the count when they finally crossed paths.


	2. Captain James 'Buck' Barnes shows off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about the countess and her cowboy. The count learns more as well.

It was well past noon when Buck returned to the hotel to find the Countess having lunch in the hotel dining room. Taking off his hat, he set it on the table and joined her. “Sorry I took so long,” he apologized without elaborating. He expected she wouldn’t be interested in the situation in Texas with the cattle herds moving through Indian Territory.

She took a sip of hot tea and studied him for a moment over the rim of the cup. He was still wickedly handsome. Smiling, she said, “I had not expected your return until this afternoon.”

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked with a flash of concern on his face. He had hoped to spend the rest of the day with her and didn’t know what he would do if she wanted him to leave.

Smiling coyly she set her cup down and asked, “Do you want to leave?” She had a teapot and offered him some.

“No,” he answered and turned his cup over. Natasha poured the tea and offered him milk and sugar. He took the sugar but left the milk. A waiter appeared and asked if he was interested in the plate lunch. Yes, he was starving. 

Natalia watched in fascination as he wolfed down half a cow and nearly that much in potatoes. “Worked up an appetite?” she teased.

He grinned, wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, and said, “I haven’t had a real meal in over a week.”

Natalia sipped at her tea a moment and then asked, “Are you better on a full or empty stomach?”

He thought about it then realized what she was getting at. “We can try and find out,” he offered with a shit eating grin.

“Perhaps we will,” she said and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To change into riding clothes. You did offer to take me riding.”

He remembered his manners and stood up. “Certainly.” Seeing her reach into her cloth purse, he stopped her. “I’ll get this.”

She smiled. “Why thank you, Capt. Barnes. I accept your offer.” Many Russian nobles like Prokolot only pretended to be wealthy, but she, managing her money wisely, was actually quite wealthy due to her foreign investments. She could have easily afford both of their lunches, but his offer was charming. 

Natalia was beauty and brains, a combination that terrified most men except for a select few who knew the truth about her. Gazing at the eagerness in her companion’s eyes, she was pretty certain that he would be able to manage the truth. But she wasn’t ready to tell him.

“If you finish eating before I return, please join me,” she said and excused herself.

Buck smiled and sat back down to finish his lunch. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t be coming back down until he went up. “Can I change this tea out for some coffee?” he asked the waiter. “And bring me a bourbon and water.”

Natalia meant to wait him out and was not disappointed. He appeared at her door, and it was all she could do to keep from dragging him inside and raping him. In stead she turned away and reached for the red silk scarf on her bed. Her riding attire, inspired by the Chinese, was scarlet with a phoenix and a tiger facing each other across her breast. The tunic fell to her knees but was split in the front and back to make it easier to ride a horse. Beneath the tunic were doeskin leggings that clung snuggly to her thighs. Her boots fit up to her knees with extra pieces of hard leather that protected her knees. Gloves and a beautiful black and silver quirt completed the ensemble. 

He looked from her leggings to her face, his own face seeming a bit frustrated, and said, “You mean to make me your undying slave.”

“Do I?” she asked with a brazen smile. “How charming.” She brushed his cheek with her hand and rose on her toes to plant a light kiss on his lips. This did not satisfy him. He grabbed her butt and lifted her up, pushing her against the wall and attacking her lips. Instead of getting angry or indignant which he half expected, she wrapped her arms around his neck and met him for one long savage kiss. When the need for air finally separated them, she crooned against his mouth, “James, I want to go riding. We can make love when we get back.”

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying and another moment for him to get his own passions under control. “Countess, you are the ruin of me,” he replied breathlessly. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

She untangled herself and got her feet on the floor. What he didn’t see was the grin on her face when she opened the door to leave. “Do you fall in love often, Capt. Barnes?” she asked curiously.

“Not often,” he replied with a silly grin on his face. “Not often.”

The walk to the stables was pleasant for an early spring. A rare warm day, splashes of green pushed through the mud and dry grass. Arm in arm with her handsome cowboy, Natalia walked on the inside to avoid getting any mud splashed on her riding clothes. One of the places they passed was Ford’s theater, where President Lincoln was murdered.

He stopped and looked up at the marquee. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember they aren’t all bad,” he told her with a dark look in his eyes. “Most of the men killed in the South didn’t own any slaves, but they still fought for it. Even those men in Missouri, the ones I had to kill, didn’t own slaves. They were youngin’s for the most part but they sided with the devil. ” He got quiet, and she didn’t press it. When he was ready to speak again, he said, “Sometimes I think we all wound up on the devil’s side. Dropping the topic he smiled at her and resumed their walk.

Arriving at the stable and requesting a horse for Natalia, regular saddle, he turned his attention to his own horses, one a tall handsome Kentucky Saddler, and the other a small bay pinto with bright eyes. Natalia joined him as he gathered his tack to saddle the bigger horse. The large chestnut whickered softly when Natalia held her hand out to the small pinto. The chestnut was certain he was not getting something the pinto was.

“That’s Tuhuya,” he told her as he entered the chestnut’s stall and set about brushing him down. “This is Cumberland.”

“Tuhuya is an unusual name,” she said and gave the small horse a mouthful of stolen hay.

“It’s Comanche,” he explained. “I got him from them. He may look small, but he’s got more stamina and bottom than this big fellow, believe me, he proved it on more than one occasion.”

“What does it mean?” she asked and petted the brown head.

“Horse,” he answered readily and threw a saddle pad on Cumberland’s back. “Yeah, I know, not very creative.”

Capt. Barnes was beginning to show himself as a remarkable man in his thoughts and skills. “Do you speak Comanche?” she asked curiously and moved to pet Cumberland and slip him a mouthful of hay. “What was it like living among them?”

“Nerve wracking. I was never sure when I was going to wind up gutted or strung out on an ant pile… naked.” He grinned.

“Why were you there?” she continued.

“Trying to keep the Whites and them from going to war. The Comanche are a proud people and will fight you at the drop of a hat. Whites moving cattle through their lands and shooting the buffalo upsets them. I want to keep war from happening.”

“Aren’t they just savages?”

“No more savage than we are or the Mexicans. Hair bounties lead to a lot of peaceful Indians turning mean. Taking their hunting grounds…we kill them…they kill us…and it becomes a cycle of killing.” Remembering the first part of her question, he answered, “And yes, I do speak some Comanche. Enough to get home with my hair intact.”

Natalia looked at him with new appreciation in her eyes. “You are a brave man, Capt. Barnes.”

“Just doing what my government asks me to do,” he replied and set his saddle on the chestnut’s back. “Although it’s nice you think that.” He was about to say something else when a troop of people entered the stable.

“I told you the countess was going riding,” the Grand Duke loudly proclaimed to the Russians and Americans with him.

Buck pushed his hat back and grinned at Steve, whose sweetheart Sharon Carter was dressed for riding in a long skirt. “Aren’t we decked out pretty,” he teased his friend who looked more dressed up for church than riding. 

“The colonel’s orders,” Steve responded with a snide smile. Gazing down at Natalia, he greeted her. “Countess.”

“Capt. Rogers.”

“May I present Miss Sharon Carter, Sharon, Countess Natalia.” Natalia extended her hand and smiled when the other woman lightly shook it.

“It is a pleasure,” Miss Carter replied with a thin smile. When the two men were distracted by their own conversation, Miss Carter added, “I understand our Buck enjoys your company.”

The countess met her insinuating gaze and replied, “I truly enjoy his company as well.” And there was no doubt in either woman’s mind as to what this conversation was really about. Miss Carter had heard things. “Ah, here comes my horse now.” 

There were four women present, three of them sidesaddle and one astride her mount. Those who were mounted up moved out of the barn so the others could get finished. Steve and Buck, sensing something unpleasant could possibly happen if they didn’t keep an eye on the women, walked outside leading their horses. 

“Polite ladies ride sidesaddle,” Sharon spoke up and adjusted her gray riding skirt.

“I am a countess,” Natalia replied indifferently. “Ladies are several ranks below me. Besides I like to ride astride my stallions.”

One of the other women, missing the entire point of their conversation, remarked, “But your horse is a gelding.” This time Natalia and Sharon Carter looked at the woman and couldn’t help themselves. They started laughing.  
Steve, seeing a momentary truce, turned to Buck and teased, “Stallion?”

“Shut up,” Buck said and mounted his horse. Count Aleksandr and Blagorodnyy were exiting the barn and he could see a rifle laid across Blagorodnyy’s thighs. The Cossack was armed. Not a problem; he and Steve were also armed although Steve’s weapon was hidden beneath his frock coat. Buck, following the tradition of the Texans, wore his clearly on his hip where there could be no mistake about whether or not he was carrying.

The count, smoking a taper pipe, joined them. “Lovely day for a ride,” he remarked cordially, his eyes taking in the weapons on Capt. Barnes’ hips. “Do you think you will have need for them?”

“Probably not, but I like being safe,” Barnes answered wryly. 

“Perhaps today you will show us your prowess,” Count Aleksandr said with a friendly smile. “Has the countess mentioned her own skills to you?”

“No,” Barnes answered and shot the countess a curious glance. 

“I shot a wolf,” she stated as if it meant nothing. “It was going to eat my reindeer.”

“Was it a long shot?” Steve asked curiously.

“No, actually quite close. The deer was pulling my sled. It was shoot the wolf or walk.”

“In snow,” Count Aleksandr added for effect. “The countess is famous in court for her…how shall we say it….many skills. Be careful, Capt. Barnes. She leaves broken hearts where she passes.” 

Annoyed by this revelation, Natalia sniffed her disapproval and said, “Count Aleksandr has never been one of my conquests. He has no heart to break.” She gazed at Capt. Barnes who was intently studying her but keeping his own council. For the first time in her life she wanted to reassure a man that her intentions were not wicked, but she would not show weakness in front of Count Aleksandr. 

Buck, easing his horse closer, smiled at her and said, “I would rather have my heart broken by the countess than to have never known her.”

“Damn, Buck,” Steve muttered under his breath as the Grand Duke, a couple of generals and at least one senator emerged from the stable. 

The ride was leisurely with Buck and the countess bringing up the rear. Few words passed between them, but eye contact was almost constant. At one point she held her hand out to him and he took it and kissed it. 

Everything came to a halt when the Grand Duke spotted a fox and asked if it would be all right for Blagorodnyy to show off his marksmanship. The fox flipped in the air when the Cossack’s bullet struck it.

“Now you, Capt. Barnes,” the count insisted. “I have heard much about your prowess but am beginning to think it is just American bragging.”

Natalia reached over and touched Buck’s hand. “He will not stop until you show him.”

Buck kissed her hand again and dismounted. Looking around for a suitable target, he looked up and noticed some old cones still clinging to a wayward pinetree. Shooting them off the tree would be kid’s play. Each shot brought one down. Showing off for the countess, he did it rapid fire. “If there weren’t ladies present, I’d show you how the Comanche do it,” he said and reloaded his weapons.

“How do the Comanche do it?” the Grand Duke asked enthusiastically.

“Mostly naked hanging off the neck of a horse,” Buck answered and shot the countess a daring glance. She was grinning proudly at him. Doing a Texas roll, he slipped the weapons back into his holsters. “Did that meet your approval, Count?”

“Very much,” the count answered thoughtfully.

 

Natalia raised her head and stared at her lover’s face. He looked stunned, completely absorbed in his own thoughts, if there were any. He reached his hand down and stroked her bare shoulder. “Countess?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes?”

“You’re not going to break my heart are you?”

She crawled back up his sated body and asked, “Is your heart in danger of being broken?”

He looked at her and smiled. “I love you.”

“Really?” she asked and arched a fine brow. “You don’t know me.”

“You shoot wolves that eat reindeers,” he dead panned. “And you’re a countess… who turns me inside out. You are beautiful and tender.” His voice got softer. “I want to marry you.” IF she was going to run screaming it would be now.

She smiled, her beautiful face gentle and tender, and stroked his jaw with a slender finger. “I can not marry you,” she answered affectionately.

“Because you are a countess?”

“That and because you are an American.”

“That’s bad?” he asked with a dejected sigh.

“It is for me,” she said and rose over him. Bending down she kissed him slowly and thoroughly. “I am not wanting to break your heart, James. I find you charming and handsome and brave. I will gladly be your mistress but I can never be your wife.”

“Mistress?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never had a mistress before.”

“Well, now you have one,” she said with a grin and kissed him again.

He rolled her over on to her back and kissed her with all the fire in his heart. Raising his head, smiling at her, he asked, “Why do I get the feeling I’m the one being kept?”

“It is all a matter of perspective,” she answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James is a man who's youth was shaped by the American Civil War. He wants to prevent another one from happening and explains his thoughts to Countess Natalia.


	3. An Evil Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck and Natalia rent a place where they can meet. Prokolot has a plan to kill the Grand Duke. It does not bode well for Capt. Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Countess' reason for not wanting to marry her lover was valid one. Single women could amass wealth and property but once they married it passed to their husbands.
> 
> Crackers were/are Eastern cattlemen. So named because they use whips instead of ropes. In Florida there are registries for Cracker cattle and horses, Eastern Spanish livestock.

The Grand Duke announced that he was not ready to leave the US but that he wanted to move his little troop to New York, a more glamorous city than Washington DC, in two weeks. Colonel Fury also informed Buck that he was needed again…in Florida. While her lover panicked, Natalia considered their options. What was half way between New York and Washington DC? Philadelphia, of course. She could rent a small apartment or house in Philadelphia. 

Philadelphia  
A week before he had to leave, they went to Philadelphia and found a small house with a white picket fence and flowers in the windowsill. Dressed as they were in their Sunday Go to Meeting Clothes, the man showing them the house spent most of his time flattering Capt. Barnes’ lovely young wife while pointing out all the house’s qualities. Buck was afraid Natalia was going to take offense and correct the man on their marital status, but she played along with all her good grace.

After they rented it under his name, and the gentleman took his leave, Buck took off his frock coat and said, “I thought you would get upset when he kept calling you Mrs. Barnes.”

“It is not your name I object to,” Natalia said as she removed her net gloves, “but your laws. As I told you, I am a wealthy woman and do not take kindly to a law that gives all my possessions to you.” She set the gloves on the kitchen table along with her parasol and purse.

He had told her that he didn’t want her things, but she had a stubborn streak in her and was not budging, and he had too much sense to fight with her. Besides all she had to do was give him THAT LOOK, and he went to her like a good lap dog and waited for her to pet him. What would James Senior think if he knew his son was a Russian countess’ faithful mutt?

Natalia crooked her finger at him and headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. “Which one do you like best, Capt. Barnes?” she asked.

Grinning like a sheep dog, James followed the love of his life upstairs. Natalia liked the one with an eastern window because it let in the morning light and had a view of the river and harbor. A gentle breeze ruffled the white curtains and allowed the room to breathe. James was just happy it had sheets on the bed. 

Drawing Natalia into his arms, he kissed her slowly at first, tenderly and warmly. She pulled his coat off while he released her hair from the pins that held it up. “I am going to miss you,” he said and drew back to turn her around and unbutton her dress. “But I am not going to miss these.”

She laughed and held her hair up while he fumbled with the snaps. Once he had the last one undone, she allowed the silk dress to slither sensuously off her shoulders and down her body. James didn’t need any help getting out of his clothes or dress shoes. God he loved it when she looked him over and let her eyes settle on his cock. If he was going to be a kept man, he was thankful she liked what she was keeping.  
Crawling on the bed beside her, thinking about the next two months….or more….when he wouldn’t be able to touch her body, smell her perfumed skin and nuzzle her warm soft breasts. No soft sighs in the night, no taste of woman on his tongue. Damn, he almost felt sorry for himself. Sliding down her body, kissing his way to her core, he smiled when she gasped in surprise and pleasure. Two months…or more…without her desperate cries in his ears. Two months without hearing her cry his name while in the throes of passion. He was a ruined man hopelessly in love with this woman.

When she pushed his head away, he rose on his knees with a depraved smile on his lips. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he stopped her when she started to move. “Later,” he said and climbed over her body. “I want this right now,” he said and lowered himself. One slip of his supple spine and he was buried deep within her. The look of surprise and pleasure on her face was matched only by the pleasure he was feeling. 

Natalia tightened her inner muscles and stared intently into his passion glazed eyes. She was going to miss him. Caressing his face, she whispered, “I love you.” He stared at her face as long as he could, letting her see her effect on him. When it was impossible for him to hold back any longer, she held him tightly and kissed the side of his face as he came apart for her. 

While the cool breeze dried the sweat on their bodies, he held her against him and dozed lightly. A troubling thought entered his mind. “Countess,” he began and moved so he could speak over her shoulder.

“Mmmmhhhh?”

“Do you ever worry about anything happening?” he asked curiously. “I mean we do it a lot.”

She opened her eyes and stared at the wall. This question was bound to happen sooner or later. “I was hurt as a little girl,” she answered without elaborating. She could sense the look of horror on his face and turned over. “Does that change your thoughts on me?” she asked with a touch of worry in her voice.

“No,” he passionately assured her, “but tell me who it was and I’ll kill him.”

She smiled. “You would do that for me?”

“Name him.”

“He died four years ago,” she answered with a look of devotion in her eyes.

“So he got away with it?”

“No, I shot him.”

He flashed a big grin and said, “That’s my girl.”

 

Washington DC back room  
Prokolot lit his pipe and puffed on it a moment, while Beria, Kasparov, Gogol and Pushkin glared at his back in the small private room. “I thought that Cossack you brought was going to take care of this problem for us,” Pushkin finally growled.

“That was my intention,” Prokolot admitted and turned towards them, “but I have a better idea.”

“And what would that be?” Beria asked skeptically.

“Let the Americans do it for us,” Prokolot answered with a patient smile on his face.

“The Americans?” Gogol repeated. “How will they do this for us?”

“Ever read a paper by a university student named Ivan Pavlov?” Prokolot asked and waited for an answer. Seeing the dumbfounded expressions on their faces, he continued, “Pavlov said in his paper that the human mind can be retrained under the right stimulation. I think I have someone who can do the business for us.”

“And how long are we to wait for this solution?” Gogol growled impatiently.

Prokolot smiled. “I will be ready when the Grand Duke returns for his buffalo hunt,” he assured them.

“It can be no later,” Kasparov exclaimed anxiously. “He is already influenced by this godless land.”

Prokolot smiled patiently at his colleagues. They were the very kind of men that Czar Peter had had to deal with in his time. Stupid men stuck in the past. Prokolot’s interest was more practical; he wanted out of his debt to the Grand Duke and then maybe a license to manufacture weapons for the army…just in case Russia had to go to war with the US.

 

Washington DC train station  
Natalia stood on the platform and watched as James loaded his horses in the boxcar. Capt. Rogers and his fiancée Sharon Carter stood with her, seeing him off for what would be, hopefully, a two month assignment to Florida. 

“Well, all I have to load now is myself,” James said and turned to say good-bye to Steve. There was no point in asking his friend to keep an eye on Natalia; he would do it because that was how Steve was. When the Grand Duke returned to Russia, she would stay behind and live at ‘their home’ in Philadelphia. After he returned to DC, he would move her back to the capitol. They shook hands. Because Sharon had made peace with Natalia after she saw how much he loved the countess, he kissed her on the cheek and winked. “Be good,” he teased her.

One last kiss from his countess. Two months he told himself. Just two months. He kissed Natalia and showed Steve and Sharon how to really do it. “I am going to miss you,” he said and held her tightly to his breast.

She looked up at him and brushed his lips with her net-gloved finger. “Be safe,” she whispered and then remembered what she had in her purse for him. Drawing the string open, she removed a delicate linen handkerchief with a lace border from it. It carried the scent of her perfume on it. “When you need to remember me,” she said and gave it to him. 

This reminded him of something. Reaching into the breast pocket of his vest, he pulled out a piece of paper with a name and address on it. “Write to me here,” he said and gave it to her. “Make sure you use that name. And please write. ” The train whistle sounded. He looked around with a touch of desperation in his eyes. He didn’t want to leave her. Another kiss and he ran for the boarding steps 

Natalia watched the train take her lover south out of her arms. “Are you going to be all right?” Steve asked sympathetically.

She ‘manned up’ and turned to him, her chin up. “I am from Russia, Capt. Rogers. What is two months?” 

 

Florida  
Buck took the envelopes out of his saddlebag and sniffed them. Natalia’s perfume. Every time he showed up at Benton’s Store, he found at least two letters waiting for him from Mrs. Natalie Cody for Mr. Buck Cody. He didn’t get to write as often, but he hoped she understood. He thought about her all time, even when he was hip deep in swamp keeping an eye open for gators, snakes and the bad guys. When he lay on the ground at night with the Cracker cattlemen who were helping him, he tried to remember every detail of their last night together. And if he didn’t dream of their reunion, he felt cheated in the morning.

The day he busted the smugglers and handed them over to the authorities was the end of his assignment. And there were enough witnesses and paper work to put the bad guys in jail for a few years without any extra in put from him, although it was possible that the courts might want his testimony at some time in the future.

He was on a train back to DC within two days after sending a telegram to Natalia telling her he was returning.

 

Washington DC  
Contacting Prokolot in Philadelphia that Capt. Barnes had returned to DC, the Cossack received his orders. ‘Shoot him if you have to, but do not kill him.’ If the Countess made an effort to return to Washington DC, he, Prokolot, would take care of her. It was his hope that Capt. Barnes would come to Philadelphia.

 

On a road between Washington DC and Philadelphia  
Blagorodnyy aimed to kill the horse first. The big chestnut saddler threw himself over on his side as his heart exploded. Pinned beneath his horse, the cowboy tried to free himself, but seeing he was about to be attacked again, he reached for the Colt at his side. Blagorodnyy drew his own weapon and shot the cowboy through the shoulder. A rifle butt to his head ended the cowboy’s struggle. 

 

Philadelphia  
Prokolot smiled at the telegram from Blagorodnyy. He had Capt. Barnes at their safe house. Readying to leave by train, he imagined the Countess was going to have a long wait.


	4. Lost without Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia and Steve go looking for Buck, who is hurt and doesn;'t know where he is. Enter Dr. Bryce.

Washington DC/Annapolis Junction  
Natalia caught the first train on Monday to Washington DC. Forcing down the fear that clawed at her thoughts, she went to the stable first to see if his horses were there. Tuhuya peered at her over his stall gate, but Cumberland was not there. Finding the groom, she fought to keep her voice steady. “Do you know when Capt. Barnes left on his horse?” When he hesitated, she added, “I am going to see Colonel Fury of Government Service. He will get the information I request in a less friendly manner, if you insist.”

“Captain Barnes left here on Thursday…” 

Natalia’s body turned to ice as she imagined the worst. Something had happened to James. Fleeing the stable she hailed a cab and had the driver hurry to Colonel Fury’s office. His aide said he was busy seeing some men from the president’s staff, and that she should wait, which she did for maybe ten minutes. Unable to wait, knowing that James might be hurt…or dead….she barged into Fury’s office and announced, “Capt. Barnes is missing. He left on Thursday and never made it to Philadelphia.” 

Fury glanced behind her at the embarrassed aide and said, “Go find Capt. Rogers.” To Natalia he said, “Countess, give me ten minutes to finish here and we’ll see if we can figure out what happened.”

Natalia inclined her head and returned to the outer office. She was still sitting there staring into space when Capt. Rogers appeared. “Natalia, tell me what you know,” he said gently and took her hands in his. He could see from her frozen expression that she had been thinking too long about this. 

She turned to Rogers and said, “He sent me a telegram saying he was coming Thursday morning. I went to the stable and found his saddle horse missing. The groom told me that he had left that day, but he never made it to Philadelphia. ” Staring at Steve’s kind face was breaking down her resolve. She was scared in the worst way possible…not knowing where he was.

“Let me get my horse and I’ll go look for him,” he said kindly.

“I’m going with you,” she said firmly.

“You’re not dressed for riding,” he said and looked over the simple dress she was wearing. As beautiful as she was, the countess even made a white cotton dress look glamorous.

She clutched his hands tightly. “I have to go with you,” she repeated. “Take me somewhere where I can buy trousers and boots. Please Steven, I can’t stay behind.”

 

Dressed in simple trousers and plain boots, Natalia watched Tuhuya as he was saddled for her. The small Indian pony flicked his ears and looked around at the large bay Capt. Rogers was saddling. Natalia petted his neck and spoke softly to him. Right now he was her only connection to James. 

It was late in the afternoon when they came upon the grizzly remains of Cumberland minus his tack. Natalia could not bring herself to get down and inspect the horse, but Steve had no such qualms. With a hard frown on his handsome face, he ran his gloved hand over the gelding’s side. The bullet hole in his side was a large one, but Steve didn’t know if that was from the size of the bullet or scavengers. 

“Annapolis Junction isn’t far from here,” he told her and rose to his feet. “We’ll go there and see if their sheriff has any information. Maybe someone turned in his tack.”

“Maybe he’s there,” she added hopefully.

“Let’s hope he is,” Steve replied and mounted his horse. A tug of the reins and they headed towards Annapolis Junction. The sun was beginning its bloody descent into the west when they arrived at the sheriff’s office. They found a deputy on duty while the sheriff had his supper.

“How can I help you, captain?” the man asked and rocked forward in his chair.

Steve hesitated a moment and glanced at Natalia. She reacted quickly to the question. “My name is Natalie Cody, and my husband is missing. We found his dead horse, but no sign of him. Please tell me you know where he is.” 

“Cody, eh? Ma’am, we found the horse and took his tack, but we found no sign of your husband. I’m sorry.”

Natalie gasped in horror, tears springing into her eyes. She turned away, not seeing the man get up and step into a back room. When he returned he had Buck’s tack and saddlebags. Steve took the saddlebags but asked the man to hold on to the tack until he could come get it.

 

Annapolis  
Buck’s left shoulder just above the clavicle was on fire from the bullet wound. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t get comfortable and had to choose between lying on his right or left side while thinking about Natalia and how worried she had to be now. It broke his heart to think he was going to die without ever seeing her again. She…and Steve….would be looking for him. Be brave, he told himself; don’t let it get to you, but it was hard being brave when you didn’t know where you were or why this was happening to him.

(Why?) Taking a deep breath while trying to sit up to take the pressure off his arms, he was hit by an electric pain that raced through his body.   
(Oh God it hurts! Please make it stop hurting)  
He’s been in the dark windowless room a long time by himself (Why doesn’t someone check on me?)   
With no concept of real time and distance, he closed his eyes. (Where am I?)   
(Thirsty.) His tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth. Was this how they were going to kill him?  
He thought about his friend. (Please Steve, find me.)  
Taking a deep breath, he almost screamed from the pain (It hurts! Oh my God, it hurts so bad)   
Exhaustion closed around him. (I’m so tired.)   
On the verge of losing consciousness, he thought about Natalia (Oh my countess, I am so sorry.)

The door opened. It was Prokolot and a man he didn’t know. The man sat on the bunk beside him and drew the shirt back from the festering wound. “We have to remove the bullet or he will die,” he pronounced tonelessly.

“What do you need?” Prokolot asked without any hint of emotion. He needed the cowboy to kill the Grand Duke and didn’t want him to die, but that was as much involvement in the man’s life as he was going to get. If he died, he died; no tears shed. 

“Can we untie him and lay him flat?” the bespectacled man asked.

Prokolot motioned for the Cossack and another man with him to do it. “Tie his hands down. I don’t want to risk him trying to get away and us needing to kill him.” Frowning at the man sitting on the bunk, he said, “Don’t lose my cow-boy, Bryce.”

Dr. Bryce stood up and glanced at Prokolot over the rims of his glasses while the two men forced Capt. Barnes on his back and tied his hands over his head. Barnes fought not to scream but could not suppress the whimper that escaped his lips. “I need my bag and some alcohol,” the man said and sat back down. Unbuttoning the captain’s shirt, he pulled it back to better see the bullet wound. He palpitated the wound and drew some thick fluid out. Fighting down a scream and shaking from the pain, Capt. Barnes’ eyes rolled back in anguish. 

Bryce took the bottle of alcohol, a cheap rye whiskey, from the Cossack and uncorked it. Unceremoniously he poured it on the wound. The burn ran like a tremor through Buck’s body. Bryce took out another bottle and opened it. “Drink,” he said held it to Buck’s lips.

“What is that?” Prokolot asked curiously.

“Laudium,” Bryce answered. “He’ll soon be as pliable as a kitten.” Once Capt. Barnes was drugged into incomprehensibility, Bryce went to work removing the bullet. He was certain that the young man’s body was strong enough to survive the procedure and would heal itself in a reasonable length of time. The laudium and stronger opiates over time would make the captain even more pliable. The man would be willing to do anything to avoid withdrawals.

Washington DC  
Natalia could not stand being in Philadelphia by herself and moved back to Washington after a month of watching and waiting and looking. If James reappeared he would go to Washington first that she was certain of, or at least what she prayed for.

Taking possession of all his things, with Capt. Rogers’ help, she moved into James’ apartment. That first night lying in his bed was heart wrenching. Everything around her belonged to him. Wrapping herself around his pillow, she gave into the loneliness and fear in her heart and cried herself to sleep. He had to be alive somewhere out there finding his way back to her.

 

Washington DC  
Washington was humming that summer. You either loved or hated Grant, and it showed in what the press said about him. Prokolot found it only mildly interesting. He was keeping an eye on the countess and her ally the American captain. He would occasionally call on her and invite her lunch or a leisurely walk around the capitol, fellow Russians in exile awaiting the return of the Grand Duke. He would also inquire sympathetically about the missing Capt. Barnes. What he didn’t realize was his curiosity aroused hers. Prokolot was not a man to feel empathy towards anyone. That he always inquired about the search for Barnes made her suspicious.

She relayed this suspicion to Steve.

Meeting in the parlor of Sharon’s home, Natalia arriving first, she relayed her concerns to them. “Always he asks me about James,” she stated passionately, her accent growing stronger the more she talked about it. “He knows something.”

“I could arrest him,” Steven said, “but that would not lead us to Buck.”

Sharon brought in a kettle of hot tea and cups for the three of them. “Can you question him?” she asked her fiancée. 

“That would just tip him off, if indeed he has Buck. We need to keep an eye on him while he’s keeping an eye on us.”

Angry and scared, Natalia stood up and walked to the screened door where she could look outside at Sharon’s manicured lawn with its roses and lilacs. “Why would he take my James? Why?” Getting angrier, she hissed, “I would cut his heart out if I could.”

Steven glanced momentarily at Sharon, whose face showed her sympathy for the other woman, and said, “We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose. If he has Buck, there has to be a reason behind it.” He glanced at Sharon again.

“Countess,” Sharon began, “ I want to offer you a room in my home. It’s not safe living in that small apartment. Buck was never afraid of anything, but that’s not a safe place for women.”

“Plus, you won’t be alone,” Steve added. 

“Yes, Steve and I can help you move his things here,” Sharon included. “I worry about you.”

Natasha looked around her face coldly serious. “I need to tell you something, and I pray you do not betray me.” Steve looked surprised. Sharon’s expression never changed. “I came to America with the Grand Duke to keep an eye on him, to protect him from assassination attempts. There are many in Russia who do not like our familiarity with America. Too many ideas seeping in. There is fear in court that he has made some enemies.”

“Did Buck know this?” Steve asked. 

“I kept no secrets from him. It’s why I followed the Grand Duke to New York instead of staying here. James…Buck…. understood this and gave me no call for alarm.” Pausing, her eyes betraying her heart with tears, she blinked and wiped them away with the handkerchief she kept inside her glove. Turning back to Sharon, she said, “I kindly accept your offer, but I will also be keeping James’ apartment. It does not cost me much and he could go back there if he finds his way home.”

The next night Natalia found herself sleeping in a warm soft bed that smelled of lilacs and lavender. James’ belongings were in a spare guest room beside the bedroom that Sharon’s mother slept in, safely stored in boxes and bags. Even the boots she had refused to take off his feet were now treasured. The small Indian pony was in the stable behind the house with the Carter buggy horse. If James turned up at the livery stable, the groom was to tell him where the horse had been taken. In the soft silky darkness of the room, a gas light outside chasing away the darkest of shadows, she wondered if he dreamed of her, was he dreaming of her?

“James,” she murmured softly, “where are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many drugs were perfectly legal at this time in US History.


	5. Summer 1870

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck is being turned into a heartless killer, while Natasha finds it too painful to keep looking for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a transitional chapter. short to the point. Buck murdering the old woman served two purposes....a legend is created and he kills without pity...something that he never would have done if he had been in his right mind.

Washington DC  
The summer was hot and would have been unbearable but for the cooling rains that swept in from the Atlantic. Natalia sometimes rode along the river trail to the Potomac’s delta, where it emptied into the tidewater. When it finally became obvious to her that James was not coming back, she let his room go. Still it didn’t keep her from looking, from hoping that he would find his way back to her. If not for the kindness of Steve and Sharon, she didn’t know what she would do, because deep in her heart she held out the hope he would return. And with the Grand Duke returning in the fall, she needed to set up his itinerary, meet with Colonel Fury and some of President Grant’s old Civil War buddies like General Sherman, Commanding General of the Army, and General Phil Sheridan. There was even a rumor that the famous frontier hero Colonel George Custer might be meeting with the Grand Duke. And the Duke himself was begging for a buffalo hunt, which meant a private train had to be procured and a schedule set for this hunt and a location.

She half hoped it would be in Texas but was informed that there were no trains running from the East into Texas, and the rails closest to Texas ran through some dangerous Indian country. The Omaha route was safer.

Standing on a sand dune staring out at the cold waters of the Atlantic, leaning against Tuhuya, she could not shake the feeling that he was not dead. Steve was convinced that he was, although Sharon was kind enough not to agree with him. A body had never been found, she had reminded him, which meant Buck could still be alive. 

 

Somewhere Between Washington DC and Omaha  
Prokolot gazed cynically at the bedraggled figure sitting on the bunk in the rundown shack. “So this is the man who will change the fate of the world?”

“We’ve already tried this a couple of times,” Bryce answered with confidence. “Capt. Barnes will do anything to avoid the tremors.” Grabbing Barnes by the chin, Bryce turned his face upwards and explained, “He has a few hours in which he actually functions quite well, but he is on schedule. If we want to use him tonight, he have now until midnight before he becomes unstable physically.”

“Well, I want to see him operate,” Prokolot said grimly. Glancing at the Cossack, he added, “If this does not look possible to me, Sasha can eliminate him.”

“Hear that?” Bryce asked the drugged man. “You need to show Count Prokolot you can be depended upon.”

Buck actually considered death a time or two, of taking his own life rather than hurt other people, but Bryce was a master manipulator. He would with hold the drugs and let Buck start feeling sick as a form of punishment for disobedience. Once as a reinforcement tool, he let Buck feel the full effect of withdrawal. It was the most terrible experience in Buck’s life, the humiliation and sickness, the loss of body control.

A dirt road  
The woman carrying the tote sack was old and leathery, her youth spent in bondage on a plantation in Kentucky. Overhead the cicadas buzzed loudly in the trees. Just another summer day ending hot and muggy on the river road. Her house, a small white structure most people called a shotgun house cause you could open the front and back door and shoot through it was just up ahead where her daughter was cooking collards and neck bones for their supper, and a pan of hot cornbread.

She heard the horse coming hard and fast, a big black beast with a man wearing black sitting on it. A black scarf covered his face, but she could see his eyes. Devil eyes, cold and hard, blue as ice without anything in them. She screamed and tried to run but he was on top of her before she could get away. A single bullet placed in the back of her head ended her life on the dusty river road. A small boy ran screaming back home saying the devil killed Granny.

Capt. Barnes was rewarded with a heavy dose of laudanum that night. He did not rouse from his stupor for many hours. Somewhere in his tortured thoughts he remembered something bad that he had done. He had hurt someone. Not wanting to think about it, he let the opiates sweep him away.

Fall Social Season New York  
Countess Natalia pasted a phony smile on her face as the Grand Duke accepted the applause of the New York elite in the Grand Hotel’s ballroom. Prokolot emerging from whatever hiding place he’s been hiding in made the rounds as well. His Cossack was missing, but that was a blessing. 

Capt. Rogers as one of Colonel Fury’s agents was on hand to make sure no one got too rowdy with the Grand Duke. Natalia didn’t stray too far from his arm, and he was more than happy to offer it. He could see the way her eyes swept the room, her thoughts on another gala. She was looking for Buck, and he would have given anything if he could have produced his friend for her. 

When the orchestra played a waltz, a colonel from Delaware asked her to dance, and wanting to avoid insulting anyone, she accepted his hand. He was a bit too friendly with his hands, and while she tried to play it off, he was feeling no pain on an excess of alcohol. The situation turned ugly when he suggested that the countess visit him in his room. Steve had to rescue her, which led to some harsh words being said.

Unable to stand it any longer, Natalia asked Steve to escort her to her room. At the door, she paused and looked up at him. “He’s never going to come back, is he?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he answered sympathetically.  
Natalia permitted a tired smile. “When this is over, I am going back to Russia with the Grand Duke.”

Steve frowned but said nothing. He waited at her door until she was safely inside with the lock in place. He would come for her in the morning.


	6. Sam Wilson Beckwourth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam joins the expidition

The special train stopped in St. Louis where the Grand Duke was presented to the city’s elite. Natasha, she’d decided to go by this name in public when she was not with the Grand Duke, was tired of all the parties and gay events. Christmas in New York had been particularly devastating. The not knowing was weighing heavier and heavier on her. 

Leaving the hotel with Steve to check on their horses, she found the cold January morning blissfully distracting.

“Brrr!” Steve growled and shook himself. “Cold.”

“You and Sharon must come and see me in Russia,” she laughed at him. “I will show you cold.”

“I think I’ll pass on the cold,” Steve replied with a big grin on his handsome face, “but I may take you up on a visit.”

Half way to the stables where the horses from the train were being kept, Steve turned her into the doorway of a small diner. “I’m hungry,” he announced. Immediately the smell of bacon and hot syrup assailed their senses and promised beautiful lies of how wonderful they were. Natasha was skeptical, but Steve couldn’t find them a table fast enough. “Coffee, hot tea for the lady, a stack of flapjacks, a couple of eggs, some fried taters, bacon and one of those petite steaks. And she’ll tell you what she wants.” 

Natasha smiled and ordered something a little less filling. After breakfast, which he actually finished first, they resumed their walk to the barns near the train station. When she entered the barn holding Tuhuya, he threw his head over the gate and nickered softly at her, while Steve’s big bay gave a more dignified huffing sound. Slipping a halter on the small spotted horse, she led him outside to graze on wisps of grass poking through the snow. The exercise was good for the horse, and he was not adverse to pawing through the ice to find something to eat, although food was never an issue with him. Steve said mustangs were easy keepers that could get fat on air. 

With a winter coat as thick as a collie’s Tuhuya was as comfortable as a reindeer in Siberia. Natasha smiled as the horse pawed the ground and then threw his head up and whickered loudly. Another horse was approaching. Turning around she froze momentarily as a man in tall boots and a heavy buffalo skin coat in a sweeping hat pulled low came towards them. Of course he wasn’t James, but there was something about the way he dressed and walked that reminded her of him.

Upon closer inspection he was a handsome Black man with a short beard framing his mouth. “Hello,” he called hesitantly to her. “Forgive me, ma’am, but is Capt. Rogers around?”

Leading his horse out of the barn, Steve grinned broadly and extended his hand towards the other man. “Sam! I was wondering if you were going to catch up to us.”

Natasha watched as Steve and Sam shook hands like old friends. “Natasha,” Steve said and turned towards her, “may I present Sam Wilson Beckwourth, mountain man, cowboy, Indian fighter and one of Colonel Fury’s boys.”

“Ma’am,” Sam replied and doffed his hat. Looking the pinto over, he glanced at Steve and asked, “No word?”

“Nothing,” Steve answered, his smile drooping at the edges.

“You know James?” Natasha asked him hopefully.

“Yessem. We went on that cattle drive together and stayed with the Comanche for awhile. Damn near got me killed twice on the drive and once with the N’dins.” 

“Please, Mr. Beckwourth, I would love to hear it,” Natasha requested with a smile on her lovely face.

“Well, ma’am, I would love to tell it, but I need to put this old pony up. He’s hungry and tired,” Sam said and looked to Steve for guidance.

“Absolutely. You’ll be keeping him with us,” Steve assured him.

“And how many ass-holes am I going to have to contend with?”

“A few I suppose,” Steve answered and gave Sam a warning glance. They were with a lady.”

Sam remembered himself and turned to Natasha. “Sorry ‘bout that, ma’am.” 

But she was smiling because he reminded her so much of James. “I am not offended, Mr. Beckwourth.”

“Sam,” he corrected her. “You can call me Sam.” 

“That’s your name,” Steve teased him.

“I know that. I was just saying the lady could call me Sam, too.”

“So who was Sam one?”

Sam stopped and stared at Capt. Rogers with such a look on his face that Natasha could not help but chuckle. “Who was Sam one?” he finally asked the grinning captain. “Who was Sam one?”

“I said that already.”

Sam looked at Natasha and said, “I don’t know who’s more annoying him or Barnes.” With a devilish light gleaming in his eyes, he said, “I need to tell you about the time Capt. Rogers here got chased up a tree by a Confederate cow.’

“That was Buck’s fault playing matador with that red bandana,” Steve countered. “How was I to know that cows don’t close their eyes when they charge.”

“Well, if you’d asked, I would have told you,” Sam snorted with suppressed mirth. 

 

The snow was deep enough to slow the great herd down, letting the hide hunters pick off the buffs at their leisure. It was cold, but the weather was dry, and there was always a dollar to be made skinning buffs. Besides, the Indians were less likely to be out killing White folks in the winter.

The first they noticed the horseman was around noon on a windless day. He just sat there on a black horse, wrapped in a buffalo coat, watching them, the white background creating an eerie picture. They weren’t afraid of him, their buffalo guns more than capable of bringing him down at a distance if he threatened them.

The sky was a deep purple gray when the horseman attacked. The hunters were in their wagon piled high with frozen buffalo hides headed into town. It happened so quickly they were caught off guard by the exploding Colt. With his face hidden behind a black bandana, he fired point blank at the men. Once he was certain they were dead, he left their bodies in the wagon to freeze and slowly rode back into the darkening night. He needed to get back to Bryce.

Bryce rewarded him with a quarter bottle of laudanum. He drank it down and slipped into a stupor after hearing Bryce tell him what a good job he was doing, keeping the hide hunters from starting a war with the Indians. People would be safe with them out of the way. Buck didn’t know about that, he just knew he was feeling funny inside like something was trying to claw its way out of his skin. The bottle took that feeling away. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he imagined a woman with red hair smiling at him. He could imagine her naked on clean white sheets beckoning to him with her finger. Did he know a red haired woman? Seemed like he once did for a little while. 

 

Sam, sitting in the rear car with Steve and Natasha, regaled them with tales of the time he and Buck went up the trail and stayed with the Comanche. “Buck was sitting on that damn white horse telling Chief Yellow Tail, a bona fide Comanche war chief that I was a great medicine man of the Crow, an’ me telling him not to lay it on too thick, the Comanche might not like the Crow. And as cool as a crook, he looks over at me and says, nah that’s the Souix. Hell, I tell him, I know that, but the Comanche ain’t particular about who they dislike either.”

“So what happened?” Natasha urged him on. She was having a great time listening to his stories.

“We were lucky the snake that bit that little boy was a copperhead. Throw on some buffalo shit and it pulled all the poison out. Anything bigger an’ Capt. Barnes an’ me woulda wound up with our scalps on some warrior’s lance. An’ they really liked his hair.”

“Buck always did take an interest in keeping his hair neat,” Steve reminisced with a smile. “So what happened to the white horse?”

“Last we saw of that bitch, some Comanche brave was riding her. Good riddance, I say. I don’t think the Double D cook ever forgave Buck for riding that crazy horse, bucking to beat all hell through camp.” Sam stopped and remembered the event with a big grin on his face. “He always swore she was just sensitive.” Now he laughed aloud. “Old Man Jackson said nothing a frying pan up side the head wouldn’t cure.” 

Natasha, her hands folded in her lap, glanced down at them, a shadow of sadness passing over her. “I’m going to turn Tuhuya loose when this is over,” she told them.

Sam gave her a tender look for a moment and then said, “Oh no, ma’am. He’s an N’din pony an’ ain’t never been wild. The wolves or a bear will get him.”

Natasha looked up sharply. “I thought all Indian ponies came from wild horses.”

“Oh no, ma’am. The Comanche raised their own horses. They’re small but tough and not a wild one in the bunch. They’ll not keep a bad horse around their women and children.”

“But the white horse?” Steve asked.

“Traded her north I suspect,” Sam opined thoughtfully and then threw a concerned look at Rogers. “I’ll be damned if I return home and find that bitch there.”

“Where is home?” Natasha asked curiously.

“It moves around,” Sam answered with a grin. “My mother’s people are Crow, an’ right now they’re in winter quarters up in the Montana territory. I’ll pay’em a visit in the spring.”

Natasha retired to a sleeping car she shared with a duchess from the court who was miffed that she did not have the car to herself, but Natasha was unimpressed with courtiers. Wrapped in her blankets, she imagined James riding a bucking horse of pure white through a cattle camp. Sleep came easily that night, a grinning cowboy’s face following her into her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Duke's buffalo hunt took place in the winter of 1871.


	7. of cattle and water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha hears of the friendship between Buck and Sam on the cattle drive

The train moved through the approaching darkness like a glowing snake across the Missouri prairie. The light inside the front cars were brilliant and warm against the frozen landscape, while the car at the rear of the train, in front of the caboose, was dimmer and colder.

Natasha, Steve and Sam sat in the rear seat beside the rear door, the men wrapped in their buffalo coats while Natasha in Russian fur held a quilt over her legs. Sam was entertaining them with stories of his life among the Crow/Absaroka Indians, his mother’s people. Natasha could have listened to him speak all night. 

He stopped and took a drink from Steve’s flask, a no-no on so many levels. Smiling at Steve then Natasha, he said, “You know, I wish Barnes were here so I can beat the shit out of him.”

Natasha looked surprised. “Why is that?” she asked with an edge of concern in her voice.

Sam smiled again, this time flashing his teeth in a perfect grin. “Because that bastard…oh sorry….that….well….Buck…almost got me killed twice on that cattle drive.”

Natasha curled her feet under her and eagerly asked, “How?”

Sam aimed his story at her. “You know why they call them cow BOYS?” Natasha shrugged. “Because they are boys. In case you haven’t noticed, neither Buck nor I are boys.”

“No kidding,” Steve grinned. “So what happened?”

“Outside of trailing a bunch of smelly cows,” Sam said, “the first trouble we ran into was when we came to the Red River, you know that one that crosses half the god damned….sorry….the whole western US.” He looked sheepish for his cursing. “Anyway we came to the Red River, and most of the time it’s a slow moving if somewhat deep river at the border of Texas and N’din country, but not that day. It was flooding and we had four herds behind us. We had to cross the damn thing.” Natasha made herself even more comfortable as she imagined the scene playing out before her eyes. 

 

The remuda had to cross the river first. With the water high and swift from spring rains up in Indian country where the Red began, there was some concern about this crossing. Lupe, the half Mexican/half Apache horse wrangler, as naked as the rest of them but for boots, hat and side arm drove the ponies into the river, whooping and cracking his whip to get them moving.

Two cowboys… “They are fucking boys!” Sam reminded Buck for the hundredth time… rode into the water behind the remuda to keep them going. “We are not boys.”

“I know that,” Buck answered and pulled a drag off his cigar while absently scratching himself. He didn’t particularly enjoy riding naked, but it was get naked while crossing the river or get chafed on the other side and suffer some serious hurt. The herd owner Mr. Elijah Belgrade Butler was the only one in long johns, all the other clothes on the chuck wagon, which would come across last.

The Indian ponies hit the deep water en masse going under for a second and then fighting their way to the surface. The current swirling around them threw them down stream but there was no hesitation on their part. Fighting the current they swam for all they were worth, never trying to turn back as they headed for the opposite shore.

Lupe and the two boys with him hung on to the manes of their ponies trusting them with their lives. The Indian ponies were fearless. Buck and Sam could not help but grin when the first pony touched ground. There was then a surge of form as the ponies rose a dripping wet mass from the water and continued towards higher ground. 

“That was the easy part,” Sam said almost to himself.

“Yeah,” Buck agreed and reined his horse around. Now came the hard part.

A thousand head of longhorns, half of them damn near as wild as when they were first brought in, had to cross the river. A blue roan steer with a white head and horns at least six feet across from tip to tip was on the point. He bellowed loudly and started to move towards the river. 

“Keep’em pointed as long as you can!” the trail boss yelled as he rode past them headed for the river to cross with the lead steers. Buck and Sam got the tail end of it. There was no time to wish for something else. The herd moved as one mass with the stragglers facing the ropes and whips of the men in the rear. The bawling of cattle was deafening until they hit the water then the silence became unnerving.

Sam had hunted buffalo as a youngster with his uncles on the great northern plains. That had been thrilling with some scary moments, but this took thrilling to a whole nother level. Longhorns were unpredictable and prone to threatening. Then there was the river itself. Gazing up river Sam saw something that chilled him to the very core of his being.

“Buck! Buck!” he yelled and pointed at a large uprooted willow tree rolling towards them.

Every man caught with the rear half of the herd knew the moment the tree split the cattle into two groups. The black horned cattle trapped by the tree turned into the current and headed down stream instead of across. Now they had to get to the new lead and turn them back towards the opposite bank.

Buck, using a coiled rope, beat the heads of the steers trying to turn them. Sam used his quirt. The two boys with them wide eyed and terrified were hanging on to the manes of their ponies. If they didn’t get out of the water, their ponies would eventually give out and go under, and with cattle blocking them, there was no way to get free.

Sam could get no closer to Buck who was beating the cattle as hard as he could to turn them. Sitting high in the saddle was the only way he could get the job done, but the pony was swimming lower in the water. The brindle steer that bore the brunt of his lashes jerked his head around and turned. This was the beginning.

Sam renewed his efforts as did the boys to his left. Everyone needed to get on the downstream side of the cattle and yell and beat and whip them until they all followed the brindle towards the opposite bank. On the opposite shore the trail boss and one of his hands chased after them. There was a sand bar up ahead only a small portion of it sticking out of the water, but here the front cattle touched land and heaved themselves out of the water. Those still in the current were swept farther downstream.

Buck turned his weary pony and went after that part of the herd Sam was stuck with. It was possible they would have to let these cattle go, but Buck was not going to let his friend or the boys go. This time he was on the wrong side of the herd. Reining his pony up he drifted in behind the cattle until he encountered the first terrified boy.

“You’ve got to get out!” Buck yelled at him.

“How?” the boy shot back, his game pony beginning to grow weary.

“Give me your rope,” Buck said and reached for it. Making a loose dally, he swept it over his head and aimed for a willow tree with a limb jutting out over the water. Catching it, he tossed it to the boy and said, “Get yourself out now.” Free of his rider the pony fought to keep swimming. 

Another sand bar showed itself up ahead. The boss rode out on it and readied to throw at the men, Sam being the closest. Once more the men beat the cattle towards the bar, but these drags just didn’t have them in it anymore. Some of them were already rolling belly up. It was now up to the men to save themselves. Letting the cattle go on, they desperately urged their horses towards the bar. Exhausted but more afraid of drowning the ponies fought one last time to reach the safety of land. A loop landed around the boy’s pony’s neck and helped it keep its head up as it virtually crawled upon the bar.

All three of them fell off their ponies and lay in the warm sand. “I left Bill dangling from a tree,” Buck explained. Bill’s little dun had not made it after all.

“I got Hatfield trying to figure out how to get him over,” the boss said with a wry smile. “You know we still have to get the chuck over.”

Buck, his hat laying off to the side, folded his hands across his abdomen while gazing up at the boss and said, “You know Brazos, I would take it kindly if you got someone else to do it.”  
“I wish I could, but I need my best men to bring the wagon over, and guess what?”

Sam pointed at Buck and then himself. “We are your best men?”

“Yep. Mount up and let’s go get you fresh horses,” Brazos said and swung into the saddle of his horse.

“You know why he picked us,” Sam shot accusingly at Buck as they stood up. “He said we were his best men. We are his ONLY men.”

“You know for a Crow war chief, you complain a lot,” Buck retorted with a lazy grin. 

“I’m not a Crow war chief. My Daddy was the war chief. I’m the fool that joined this drive with you.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Buck teased and mounted his weary horse. “You could be a war chief too, one day.” 

“You do know how you get to be war chief?” Sam asked as he followed Buck and Brazos and the kid Junior back across the shallows and up the bank. “You have a war. Now you either fight the Sioux or the US cavalry. I do not personally want to do either.”

“I hear tell Custer is looking for some scouts,” Brazos spoke up as they headed back towards the herd and the remuda.

 

“The same Custer we are going to meet?” Natasha asked with a soft smile.

“The very same man,” Sam answered. 

“Thank-you,” Natasha said and leaned across the to squeeze Sam’s hand. Tears suddenly sprang into her eyes. “It’s the not knowing that hurts so bad. What happened to him?”

 

Buck squeezed his eyes shut tight as another wave of nausea hit him hard. Bryce stood over him and said, “That was not very nice of you, Capt. Barnes.”

“Fuck you!” Buck gritted.

Bryce tsked tsked him. “We’ll see how you act after a few more hours.” Stepping out of the small cage like room, Bryce nodded at the Cossack who locked the door behind him. Not until the captain was begging for relief did Bryce yield to his pleas. Capt. Barnes had to be willing to take the life of any man or woman required of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the update took so long.  
> Absaroka means Crow in Absaroka. James Wilson Beckwourth is in my story the son of the great mountain man James Beckwourth, a freed slave who helped open the west and California to the pioneers.
> 
> Although crossing the Red was completely orginal, it was influenced by the writing of Zane Grey/The Trail Driver and Lonesome Dove, and actual US field reports from Indian country on the types of horses and cattle that passed through


	8. Riders in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha seem someone in the dark.

The snow was deep from an earlier in the week storm, but General Sheridan assured the Grand Duke that this was perfect weather for hunting buffalo. Colonel Custer, wolf hounds at side, a heavy buffalo coat and cap protecting him from the cold, climbed on board the train and immediately everyone started fawning over him. The Boy General from the American Civil War was a hero, although Natasha sensed a slight hostility on Sam’s part.

“Didn’t he free the slaves?” Natasha whispered carefully.

“Free one, enslave the other,” Sam growled softly with a shrug.

Clearly Steve was impressed with the colonel or so it seemed. The colonel gave him a thin smile and then turned to Natasha. Everyone knew of his devotion to his wife Libby, but this did not keep him from noticing a beautiful woman. After all the brass and dignitaries stepped off the train in Omaha, Steve turned to his two friends and said, “So that’s General Sheridan’s favorite.”

“I’m behaving,” Sam growled under his breath. “We going to get our horses out?”

 

Prokolot climbed the steps of the rundown boarding house overlooking the train yard and made his way up to the third floor like a man who’d been there many times. Two raps on a door and the Cossack opened it and stepped aside so he could enter.

“Is he ready?” he asked Bryce.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Prokolot responded with approval in his voice as he moved the yellow curtain back and peered at the street below. Capt. Rogers, the countess and the Black man were exercising their horses. A terrible idea came to mind. Turning to the man lying on the sheetless mattress he barked, “Come here.”

Buck, his thoughts muddled by the drug he had been recently given, stood up unsteadily until the Cossack grabbed him by the hair and made him stand before Prokolot. “The count waits for no one,” the Cossack growled in his heavily accented English.

“Look,” Prokolot said and parted the curtain with his cane. Buck looked from the Russian’s hard face to the people in the street below. Even in his addled state, he knew them, his friends, his lover. “They’ve forgotten all about you,” Prokolot taunted him.

“No!” Buck hissed, refusing to believe the Russian, but what were they doing? Natalia was laughing at something Sam was saying while Steve pointed at them with a grin on his face. Prokolot was right. Then Natalia got a sad look on her face and leaned against Steve.

“She spreads her legs for someone new,” Prokolot continued. “She likes the captain and the dark man.”

Buck stared at the Russian until his eyes blurred and he could not see him anymore. Blinking, he felt something hot and wet slide down his cheeks. “No,” he whispered.

“Don’t believe me? Believe your eyes then.”

Buck gazed back down at the street. Steve was holding Natalia, her head lying on his breast while Sam moved closer and rubbed her back. Pain gave way to anger in Buck’s breast. Hatred seethed dangerously close to his heart. He still could not believe what he was seeing, but eyes don’t lie.

“You will kill them when you kill the Grand Duke,” Prokolot told him. “I will send men with you to help.” He glanced at the Cossack who bobbed his head in agreement. 

 

Natasha knew it was foolish to still be grieving for a man she had only known for a short while, but she knew she would not get over him until she returned to Russia. “I’ll be all right,” she said and raised her head. Turning back to Tuhuya she said, “Sam, will you keep him with you?” 

Sam smiled gently and said, “Sure, honey.”

Natasha petted the mustang’s nose as a cold breeze swirled the snow down the deserted street. “Maybe we should take them back,” she suggested and clutched the collar of her fur coat to her throat.

“Yeah, I need to go get something to eat,” Sam said as they turned the horses around.

“Do you know a good place?” Natasha asked innocently.

Sam smiled at her naivety. “Countess, they won’t let you go where I go.”

“Or vice versa,” Steve added. 

“It’s why I stay as far from civilization as I can get,” Sam explained. “N’dins don’t care what color you are so long as you are a good person to them. Why Buck and I didn’t get scalped by the Comanche. They saw that our words were true.” 

 

Prokolot and Bryce watched Capt. Barnes with great interest. The gunman was thoroughly devastated by what he was seeing, the half year of drugs and psychological abuse wearing him down to his rawest emotions.

“Kill them and you will feel better,” Prokolot stated with conviction. “After you kill the duke who is going to start a war with the Native people.”

 

Through his connections with the Grand Duke, Prokolot learned the herd they were going to hunt was twenty miles outside of Omaha. There would also be some friendly Indians on hand to entertain the Duke with their stories and dances. How easy would it be to create some bad Indians to attack the train? He would make the Boston Tea Party look like child’s play.

Letting Blagorodnyy and Bryce know where the train was going, Prokolot cautioned them and then departed their company to leave with the Grand Duke and apparently half the US military establishment. What a disastor it would be if Sherman, Sheridan or Custer got killed. 

 

It was completely dark and cold but for the full moon climbing in the East. Natasha awoke on the bench in the rear car, preferring to have a space to herself rather than sharing a berth with obnoxious petty royalty who snored all night and passed wind every half hour. Sam and Steve had commandiered their own benches, their great buffalo coats and scarves keep them almost too warm. They were the only ones in the rear car.

Sitting up and stretching her back muscles, she peered out the window at the pristine snow glowing under the full moon. Her beath fogged up the glass, but she cleared the window with the sleeve of her coat. A dog like animal trotted past the train and made eye contact with her, its indifference impressing her more than she let on. In Russia the wolves would shy away from people unless very hungry. This small wolf had no fear of her at all and actually stopped. She didn’t know why it was staring at her, but something else caught its attention and it looked away. Someone on a horse was out there, far enough in the distance that she could just make out his shape. Was it an Indian? Sam said there were many Indians out here.

The man on the horse rode slowly along a ridge and was joined by a second man. Natasha’s heart leaped at that moment because she was certain she recognized the shape of Blagorodnyy in his square topped hat. The Cossack had been missing for several months now and had sworn that the man had returned to Russia. Granted the two men were too far away for her to get a good look, and she didn’t know what kind of head dresses Indians in Nebraska wore, but for a moment she had dared to imagine the unthinkable, that Blagorodnyy was out there and that the second horseman was…James.

James! Was she crazy? Rising to her feet, afraid to look away from the window, she lowered it and let a blast of freezing air into the already cold car.

“Natasha, what are you doing?” Steve asked and jumped up.

“There are two men out there on horses,” she said as he raised the window.  
Wiping the frosted window with his coat sleeve he peered out into the moonlit darkness. “I don’t see anyone,” he said with concern in hs voice. Natasha was so desperate to know something about Buck that she was imagining things. “We’ll check it out in the morning.”

“I thought it was James and Blagorodnyy,” she said with conviction in her voice.

Steve felt so sorry for her. “Honey, I want to find him as much as you do, but be realistic what would he be doing out here? Maybe you saw some Indians or wild horses.”

Of course that made sense. She had seen Indians, but the first thing when it was light, she wrapped herself up warmly and headed out alone to see if there were any tracks on the ridge. Sam spotted her from the window and ran after her.

“Natasha, what are you doing?” 

“I saw some horsemen last night very late last night. I thought they looked like James and Blagorodnyy,” she said as they climbed the ridge, Sam helping her with the climb by holding her arm.

At the top of the ridge she saw the wind blow imprints of horses’ hooves. “Well something or someone was here, but that’s all these tracks tell us,” Sam told her.

Natasha with held comment because she now believed more than anything that she had seen James with the Cossack. If he hadn’t come to her than something was wrong and he couldn’t. 

“Come to breakfast,” Sam told her after glancing back at the train. “They’ll be moving out shortly to go hunting.


	9. the Buffalo Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Grand Duke goes on his hunt. the time for the attack is growing near.

Buffalo Bill Cody arrived that morning with a small buckskin Indian pony named Buffalo Joe who had been trained to chase buffalo the way the old Indian ponies did. He was for the Grand Duke, who was celebrating his twenty-second birthday, to ride. Buffalo Bill, carrying the rifle he claimed to have killed over four thousand buffalo with, was leading this expedition. Everyone else tagged along to either watch or try their hand at bringing one of the great shaggy beasts down. 

Most of the ladies stayed behind, but every man worth his gender mounted up and proceeded into the cold. Natasha would not be left behind, and Steve had saddled Tuhuya for her. Perhaps he could smell the buffalo, or maybe the clear cold air had his spirits up, but the Comanche pony was all excited and prancing. Bill Cody, mounted on a white horse, spotted her and stopped. “Countess, where did you get your pony?” he asked curiously.

‘From a friend,” she answered without elaborating. “Why?”

“Most White folks prefer the bigger American bred horses, but that little guy will leave these bigger horses worn out by the end of the day. He and Joe were bred to do this. Mind if I borrow him, and you take my horse?”

Natasha looked at the white horse and had to admit he was quieter. Not knowing what to say, but reading the faces of the military men, she knew it would be rude to refuse. “Yes, certainly,” she answered and passed Tuhuya’s reins to him, while she took the reins of the big white horse. Cody adjusted the stirrups and helped her mount the horse. Tuhuya, feeling a man on his back, kicked his heels and then took off galloping. 

“He knows there is a difference,” Sam told her as he mounted his horse a leggy roan with some eastern breeding. Smiling, he added, “Buck won him in a game of bones from a Comanche warrior named Black Horse. Before it was over though Buck was damn near naked, but he kept the horse.”

Custer, mounted on a handsome Thoroughbred sang out, “Indians coming!” and turned his horse to face them.

“Spotted Tail and Two Lance,” Sheridan puffing on a thin cigar spoke up, introducing the two men who were leading a small group of Dakota men. It was saying something that Sheridan could get members of the Dakota often referred to as the Sioux to join them. Most Dakota hated the Whites, and one young Dakota in particular, a man named Crazy Horse, was particularly hostile.

Steve mounted his own sturdy bay and drew rein beside Natasha. Sam waited on the other side of her and made sure his rifle was pointed downwards. Didn’t want to accidentally kill any general or Dakota war chief.

“Countess,” Sam said quietly, “stay close to Steve and me if you can. Those boys are fascinated with your hair.” He nodded at the Dakota warriors staring at her. “I don’t expect they’ll hurt you, but you never can tell. One of them might decide he’ll take you for his woman.”

“He’s joking,” Steve assured her. 

“The hell I am,” Sam corrected him with a grin. “See that one boy over there? That’s Running Elk. He had three wives at one time, one of them a white woman with yellow hair. The army decided to trade for her rather than fight the entire Sioux nation. He didn’t want to give her up, but eventually he was persuaded to do so. Before she left, he cut her hair off so he could remember her. They say he keeps it on a lance in his teepee.”  
“That’s actually quite romantic,” Natasha chided him, not sure if she believed his entire story.

“Romantic?” Sam queried after her as the hunting party moved out. “Did she really say that?” he shot at Steve.

“Apparently so,” Steve replied with a grin. “If he adds your red hair with the golden one, we’ll see how romantic that is.”

Steve nudged his horse forward. It was time to go hunt buffalo.

Prokolot, bringing up the rear behind some minor Russian nobles, slipped back even farther and peered curiously over his shoulder. Tonight. Tonight.

Buffalo did not fear the extremes in weather, their great shaggy coats protecting them from the cold. An old bull raised his head, his breath a fog around his muzzle, and bellowed a warning as the men appeared in the distance. The herd stopped grazing and moved away from the mounted men. 

Cody yelled and the chase was on. The bigger horses might be faster, but they weren’t used to buffalo and veered away from them if they could. The two Indian ponies bore down on them without fear and uncertainty in their steps. Both of them had once held a place of honor in an Indian warrior’s herd, perhaps even being tethered outside of the teepee to ensure its safety.

Natasha stayed out of the way and watched as the men gave chase, the great black beasts as fast as the horses and more surefooted. The Grand Duke missed his first shot, but Buffalo Bill spurring after him passed his rifle to him and told the Duke where to shoot the beast. The Duke’s second shot brought the animal down. 

Glowing with fierce pride the Grand Duke stared at his kill with great pleasure on his face. The first kill was his, and as was a custom of the native people, the raw liver was his to dine upon. Natasha was grateful it was a male tradition. 

Hide, tongue and the choicest cuts of meat were removed from the carcasses with the Indians taking what they wanted, but the rest went to the scavengers. Sam could not watch it although he had gotten caught up in the excitement and had killed a young cow. It was his hope the Dakota warriors had brought their women to skin the animals and not let them go to waste.

With caviar and champagne waiting for them the hunting party retired to the train.

The moon was at its highest point when Buck, the Cossack, Bryce and a half dozen men stared at the dead buffalo in the snow. “Such a waste,” Bryce crooned sympathetically. The captain was not as drugged out as he had been two hours earlier, the fresh air and time clearing his head a little. “War will come because of these men. So many innocent lives lost.”

“Da,” the Cossack agreed, “and maybe you catch that wicked woman too.”

Hate flared in Buck’s breast, so much hate. Nudging his horse, he moved slowly in the direction of the train. According to Prokolot there were six cars including a caboose and engine. The rear car held the horses but the one in front of that was a sitting car and would be easy to enter. The Grand Duke’s personal car was the third from the front. A nighttime attack would be easy because the army brass would return to an army post for the night taking with them most of the soldiers.

He nudged his horse in the sides and picked up speed, the ice crunching hard beneath its hooves. As late as it was, no one would be awake.

Natasha, bundled warmly, lifted her head and took a deep breath of cold winter air. Sam was a blob beneath a buffalo robe, and Steve was sitting up but asleep, a yellow wool scarf around his head, a present from Sharon. If his nose didn’t freeze off, she would be surprised. 

She rubbed the window and made a small hole that she could see through. Would the horseman return? She wanted him to return. If he did, she would go out and see if it was James or someone else. She didn’t care, she had to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course the next chapter reunites Buck with his friends....and I don't want to rush it.


	10. Calf Moon Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets Natasha help for Buck.

Natasha wrapped warmly gazed out the ice crusted window at the frozen landscape beginning to materialize under the low riding winter moon. Sam had told her that the full moon of January was called the wolf moon by the Comanche. If wolves hunted by moonlight, which she knew they did, then they would be out in number tonight. She hoped they got full bellies from the buffalo kill.

Closing her eyes she tried to go back to sleep, but the distant whicker of a horse drew her to the window across the aisle from her. Fearing it might be nothing, she didn’t wake Sam or Steve until she could clearly see the horsemen approaching the train.

“Steve, Sam!” she alerted the two men and palmed the derringer she kept in her hand muff.

Sam sat up straight. “What is it?’ he asked, alarmed even though he didn’t know the cause of the alarm.

“Horsemen,” Natasha replied as the larger group divided into two.

Steve sprang to his feet and peered out the window beside her. “They’re going to hit us from front and back,” he said and jerked his head around to peer at the rear door.

“The one moving forward has to be after the duke,” Natasha decided and looked up at Steve.

“You need to move,” Sam told Steve and frowned at Natasha’s derringer. “Can you use a real gun, sweetheart?”

“Of course.”

“Then use this,” he said and handed her his newly purchased Gasser. Seeing Steve’s hesitation, he added, “We’ll hold this group back. You go save the duke.”

Steve jumped up and ran forward. Opening the door as quietly as he could, he peered outside and listened for the passing horses. Once he was sure he could move to the other car without being noticed, he took off. It was tempting to wake the others, but doing so would lead to more confusion, and he hoped to take out the would be assassins without alarming everyone.

He was in the duke’s private car when the three men entered through the forward door. From footsteps on the roof, he knew at least one man was on top of the car, but the steps did not continue all the way across it. Shots rang out behind him; Natasha and Sam were ambushing the ambushers. The three men facing him were startled to find someone waiting for them.

“Stay in your drawing rooms!” Steve alerted the people in the car. Ducking into a space between one of the rooms and the rear door, Steve fired a wild shot down the passage. It hit someone but he couldn’t tell who. Peering around the corner, he watched as the man in the lead slid a door open and peered inside. Women screamed and he moved on methodically looking for his target. Something about the man seemed familiar, staying Steve’s next shot. He had to act though to prevent a slaughter. Lunging out of hiding he, he slammed into the man before he turned his weapon on the duke. A brave man, the duke shot the second man behind the assassin.

Jerking the bandana off his man’s face, Steve stared in horror. “Buck!” he exclaimed. How could this be Buck? How did he get here? A million questions!

Buck fought back, slamming his fist into Steve’s face. Crawling free he climbed to his feet and tried to get a bead on the duke, but Steve grabbed his wrist and jerked it upwards before the shot went off. “Go back in your room!” Steve shouted, afraid the duke would kill his friend. His friend? How the hell did he get here?

Natasha ran forward while Sam hurried outside. A heavy shot rang from the roof, but a second shot answered it. A heavy thump told her which man had been successful. Hearing the desperate struggle of two men, she threw open the door of the car and burst inside with her weapon raised. “James!” she gasped in horror.

He stopped and stared at her, surprise being replaced by a sudden burst of anger. He turned and ran for the front door. He jerked it open and collided with Sam who was coming up the steps, both men tumbling to the ground. Steve rushed out the door, jumped to the ground and grabbed Buck before he could get away. Natasha followed. Buck screamed in anger and fought to get away, but Steve jerked his arms back while Natasha, having grabbed a rope before exiting the car, wrapped it tightly around his wrists. The distant sound of someone riding away in a hurry drew their eyes towards it. Someone was getting away. Buck gave up and collapsed. The fight had gone out of him.

Natasha knelt on the ground beside his prone body and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “James?”

He turned his head and spat, “Whore!”

She recoiled from the hatred in his words. Steve, reacting in anger, punched Buck in the face. “That woman has done nothing but worry about you for over a year,” he hissed. “Good God, I don’t know why, but she loves you. And you talk to her like that? I will beat the shit out of you!”

Whether it was from the punch or his own raw emotions, but Buck’s eyes clouded with unshed tears. Natasha dared to move closer, this time cupping his face in her hand. “James, I have so missed you.”

“Better you just forget about me,” he responded with a hard bitterness in his voice. He was beginning to feel the first signs of withdrawal, the cramp rolling in his gut and promising an even greater pain. “Oh god, just shoot me and be done with it.”  
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked suspiciously as lights came on in the railcars and people started stirring. “Damn! You need to play dead right now.”

“Sam?” Steve asked.

“If they see he’s alive, it’s Leavenworth for him.”

Buck didn’t move, although it was all he could do to keep from moaning in pain. Natasha placed her scarf under his head to protect his cheek from the frozen ground. “James, what happened to you?” she asked and smoothed his hair back from his brow. It was freezing outside and he was sweating.

Steve entered the railcar and ran into a colonel demanding answers. “We were attacked but it looks like we killed all of them,” he lied, hoping it was convincing. “We’ll move all the bodies outside and try to identify them in the morning.” This placated the irritated colonel. Too much excitement. He returned to the warmth of his bed.

Natasha could see James was sick. “What is wrong? Tell me, and I’ll help,” she offered.

“Got any laudanum?” he asked and tensed up.

Natasha sat back on her heels. Laudanum? A man would do anything to keep the monster of withdrawals at bay. “I have none,” she whispered.

Sam gazed down at his friend with a scowl on his face. Laudanum kicked your ass and eventually killed you. Unless you could get the poison out of your body. When Steve returned he told him what was happening and added, “I know of a way to cure him, but it won’t happen if he’s arrested.”

“I told them all were dead,” Steve answered.

“They’re going to be looking for a man in a black shirt,” Sam said and knelt by one of the bodies lying on the ground. “We can switch shirts and coats. Make them think this is him.”

“All right, then what?”

“I take him with me,” Sam answered, certain that that part of his plan would work. 

Getting Buck out of the shirt and long coat meant untying him. For the moment he was as meek as a lamb, but it would always be that way. Natasha helped change him out of one shirt and into the other while Steve redressed the dead man. Even the hats were exchanged. As soon as that was finished, Sam retied Buck’s hands. “How much do you love him?” he asked the countess.

“You ask a foolish question,” she answered. “Why?”  
“Because we are about to put your boyfriend through hell, and I can’t do it by myself, nor will the people where we are taking him be willing to do it by themselves. Besides Steve and I need to find out who that other horseman was.”

“I can tell you,” Buck gasped. “His name is Bryce. He works for Prokolot.”

“Who rode to the fort with Sheridan,” Steve added with a hard frown. 

“First things first,” Sam reminded him and grabbed the reins of Buck’s horse. He and Natasha would take the other horses. “Got to make it look authentic,” he told Buck. He and Steve helped Buck across the saddle of the elegant black and tied him loosely to the saddle. Once they got out of sight, they’d sit Buck up right, but for now they needed to make him look dead. “You can’t go,” Sam told Steve. “The people we are going to are nervous around the army, and you need to make sure the generals don’t get any ideas. I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe Prokolot will show up and you can take him captive.”

“I’m counting on it,” Steve growled.

Sam took the reins of the black and mounted one of the bandits’ horses. This was going to make his friend sick as hell, but they needed to get away before anyone came nosing around. Steve helped Natasha on one of the other horses and then stood back as they rode off into the waning night.

The people of the Sac and Fox tribe looked on curiously as the Black man and White woman with the bound White man rode slowly into their camp. The Black man had visited them before, many times in some years, but they did not know the Whites.

“ Ahô! hi!,” Sam called out and laid his rifle across his thighs. 

“ Ahô! hi!, Prarie Falcon,” a handsome Sauk Fox warrior answered and stepped forward. “What brings you here?”

“Greetings Running Horse, my friend is sick, and we need your help.” The warrior frowned and took a step back. “Not that kind of sickness,” Sam assured him. “Some bad men made him drink poison. We now seek a safe place and native medicines to help him get over it.” Running Horse approached Buck now and looked carefully at him, his eyes eventually lighting on the rifle sheathed in the saddle boot. Sam didn’t hesitate. He pulled the rifle out of the boot and offered it to Running Horse. “For your help.”

Running Horse took the rifle, looked it over carefully and fired it once to make sure it worked. “Very well. They will stay with me.” He looked around and caught the eye of one of his wives. Wrapped in a painted buffalo robe, she came forward and listened intently as her husband explained the situation to her. Accepting his words, she indicated with a nod that Sam and Natasha needed to bring James after her.

“She does not speak English,” Running Horse told Natasha, “but do as she says.”  
Natasha looked to Sam for guidance. “She will sign it to you,” Sam answered. “And until he licks this, do not untie his hands. No matter what he says, do not untie him.” A man suffering from withdrawals would murder his own mother for a drink.

“I can hear you,” Buck hissed as eveything tried to crash down on him.

“Yeah, that was for your benefit, too,” Sam said with a grim smile.

Steve was waiting when Prokolot and the generals returned to the train. Seeing the grand duke alive along with his assassin, he turned his horse and made a break for it. Steve, his horse saddled and ready, mounted up and took off after the fleeing count. A rifle crack brought the count’s horse down with hard crash. Reaching for his weapon, Prokolot tried to stand, a second rifle crash killed the man.

Steve looked back and found the rifleman was the Grand Duke himself. You don’t become an absolute monarch by being afraid to kill your enemies. 

 

Sam rode off leaving Natasha alone with Running Horse and his wives Calf Moon Woman and She Who Speaks Wisely. Because it would be easier to keep him clean, they stripped him and wrapped him in a buffalo robe. When his cries became unbarable, they put a bandana in his mouth to muffle them. Natasha dripped water on the bandana to keep his mouth moist. 

Calf Moon Woman stayed with her, the woman's kind eyes saying what she could not speak with words. When a woman loves a man, she will suffer anything to take care of him. She showed Natasha how to chew small pieces of buffalo into a fine consistency and offer it to him to eat. Not too much, he might choke or throw it up. He was starving but could not keep anything down. They would know he was getting well when he could swallow it and not get sick.

The children of the two women would stop and stare at the sick White man but would not say anything. When Natasha smiled at them, they ran away. Once a day Calf Moon Woman would have Natasha dribble a strong smelling herbal concoction down his throat. This seemed to calm him a little. Running Horse told her it was pulling the poison out of his body.

When Natasha had to clean him, she made it known to the woman that she wished to do it alone for his sake. Her man was a warrior, too, and would be shamed if anyone witnessed his weakness. Calf Moon Woman understood. At night when Natasha needed to sleep, she made sure her body was touching James’ beneath the buffalo robe. 

Calf Moon Woman kept an eye on Natasha as well, making sure she ate and took walks to help her stay strong for her man. When Natasha went to check on their horses, her excuse to be away from him, Calf Moon Woman sat with him, often with her youngest daughter sitting with her. The little girl spent so much time staring at James’ face, Natasha was certain the little girl would be able to draw him from memory. One week after he arrived in the village, James kept the chewed buffalo meat down. The screams stopped, and on the ninth day he smiled at her. Calf Moon Woman indicated that they could free him now, but they could not leave until Prarie Falcon returned. Those were his words and Running Horse meant to keep his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim Thorpe was Sac Fox, and I once met his daughters who were trying to get his Olympic medals back. The Olympics have relented and returned them to the family. Quite simply I love Native peoples. My exhusband...but still good friend....you can be friends if you really want to be.....is Quapaw Seneca-Cayuga, Cherokee.


	11. Natasha's love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha reclaims her James and chooses her side when Whites attack the Sauk and Fox

The snow fell hard outside the lodge and the wind moaned sorrowfully over their heads. Late January was proving to be the season of the wolf, but the warmth inside the lodge was genuine. Snow packed up around the bottom of the lodge kept the wind out, and warm robes of bison and sheepskins kept everyone warm. Moving around the fire pit, Natasha helped Calf Moon Woman and She Who Speaks Wisely spoon out food for the family, which consisted of the younger men, the children and elders, all in all ten people living in the lodge. The order of presentation was elders first, then children then the warriors who considered waiting the proper thing to do. A true man saw to it that the weaker members of his family were taken care of first. In this case Running Horse insisted James go before him. He was a guest and needed to regain his strength. The women served themselves last. Natasha could not help but muse that women were always going last no matter what culture they lived in. 

“Kewâwiyâmene!,” James thanked Natasha in Sac and Fox when she sat beside him. She looked so beautiful it tightened his chest, and it was all he could do to keep from kissing her in front of his host. Calf Moon Woman had given her a deerskin dress with elaborate quillwork that clung to her body and accentuated her femininity. 

She grinned and replied, “You are welcome.” 

Running Horse, reclining on his left side, grinned and said, “You speak good.”

“Important words are learned quickly,” James answered, only reluctantly pulling his eyes away from Natasha. “Please tell your wives that the stew is very good.”

Running Horse passed along the compliment. Calf Moon Woman, the first genuine female friend that Natasha had ever had, said something to her husband and then nodded at Natasha. Running Horse translated for her. “Calf Moon Woman says thank-you, but your woman helped. She should be thanked also.”

“Then I thank you,” James told Natasha, who smiled and dropped her gaze. Being among the Sac and Fox was proving to be the most incredible event in her life…since getting James back, that is. Things were difficult, but there was an honesty about this hard simple life, a simple truth that she would take with her when they finally returned to civilization.

Much later after story telling and slow smokes by the men, Natasha nestled her naked body against James’ beneath a warm robe and whispered, “I know now why you don’t want war.”

James, drowsy eyed, smiled and hugged her close to his side before softly replying, “ They are good people.”

Natasha laid her head on his right shoulder and slipped her hand slowly down his right breast, over his abdomen to his thigh. It had been awhile since they had made love, and she wanted him. It didn’t have to be to ‘perfection’. Just some intimate touching and kissing. 

“The ground is hard,” he whispered as her hand stilled for a moment on his leg. Lord knows his mind was willing, but he was so tired, so fucked up wanting to relapse into the drugged state he had been in for so long. 

“I will lay on top of you,” she responded softly and climbed over him so she could kiss the hollow at the base of his throat where his pulse throbbed strong beneath her lips. 

“It’s cold,” he continued breathlessly and stroked her pale shoulder, so soft and fine like velvet beneath his fingers. She was so warm, almost hot to him.

“Keep me warm then,” she answered and rested her knees on either side of his waist; he had lost too much weight, but when she thought back on her fears of never finding him, she considered herself a fortunate woman.

“The wind is moaning,” he gasped as she slipped lower down his body until the dark moist heat of her body brushed against his hardening length. It was possible they might make love after all.

“Listen only to my sighs,” she said and softly pressed her lips to his face. He had a heavy stubble on his jaw, but Running Horse told her he would show her how to sharpen a knife. 

James ran his hands slowly down her back to her rounded hips and asked, “Am I man enough for you?” 

“I can not imagine life without you,” she answered. 

Natasha met his lips in a kiss that was gentle at first, soft and tasting that grew as the passion spilled through their bodies. He wrapped his arms around her and held her firmly. It had been so long since he had felt passion, since he had had lust pulsing through his body, so long since he had held a woman in his arms that he was almost afraid he wanted her too much.

She lifted her body off his and ran her hand slowly down his belly to clasp him firmly in her hand. A deep groan rumbled through his body as she stroked him to a full erection. When she could rub her thumb over the head and feel it slick with moisture, she eased it slowly inside of her.

James came apart slowly as she used him for her pleasure. He had no way of knowing what she was thinking, of her fears when she lowered herself to kiss him. Nor did he realize that even with his scruffy face and unruly hair, she thought him beautiful. That the countess loved her cowboy, and when he stifled his moans in her breasts, she thanked whatever god was out there for returning him to her. When he slept she snuggled closer for warmth and comfort.

 

Once the weather cleared and the spring thaw began the men decided fresh meat was in order and took off on a single day hunt. Nothing monumental like buffalo, but maybe some venison or water fowl. The ducks and geese had spent the winter in warmer climates and had fattened up on south Texas water plants. James, borrowing Running Horse’s older rifle, decided to go with them. He made sure Natasha wore Sam’s pistol around her neck on a string if she wandered away from the camp. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Ehe nôthe,” she answered and drew a short laugh out of him.

“Really, you think I look like your father?” he teased as Running Horse poked his head inside the lodge to get him.

“There are certain paternal qualities ingrained within you,” she answered as he bent down for a parting kiss. 

“Just don’t wander too far from the camp.”

“Yes, father,” she repeated this time in English.

The moment the men who were going hunting were away, the women set about their daily chores, which included gathering water from the melting streams. Trade with the Whites had brought metal pots and containers to the People, along with flour and sugar, which were in short supply right now. The men who had trapped over the winter would be selling their animal skins for fresh supplies. Many of the highly desired pelts were no longer found in Sauk and Fox country anymore. Who would have imagined a day would come when the amehkwa no longer built his dams in the streams of their lands.

Natasha followed Calf Moon Woman to the stream where they got most of their water. The People as they called themselves were not really a part of the great horse tribes of the West, although they kept fine horses and tried to stay on good terms with their neighbors to the north and west. Some of their men were still canoe makers, although the birch trees they used were not so common. They weren’t rare where they did live, but they did not like wide-open spaces and dry land.

While they dipped water from the stream and poured it into what looked like a very large piece of crockery, Natasha gazed thoughtfully across the warming landscape. “Maybe we should have gone hunting and left them to do the chores.”

Calf Moon Woman laughed and said, “ Men live to do great things. The everyday is for women.”

“Life is good for our men if they wait for greatness,” Natasha teased.

“Would you make your man do woman’s work?”

Natasha considered it a moment and then said, “If I ask my man to help, I hope he would do it.”

“A man should help the weak,” Calf Moon Woman concurred, but that was not exactly Natasha’s point. A man should help because it was the right thing to do, but she was not going to get into a philosophical debate with her friend. Their way of life worked, and who was she to try and change it.

They finished with the water and stood up, their knees damp from the ground. Natasha hoped they would find the time to take a walk, muddy or not. She was about to suggest it when the sound of gun fire echoed through the camp followed by yells of anger and fear.

“We are being attacked!” Calf Moon Woman cried and dropped the water jug to run find her children. Natasha hesitated only a moment. Freeing the pistol from the string, she ran towards the shooting. As she got closer, she could see the men attacking them were hide hunters intent on theft and rape. A girl hardly more than twelve was fighting to get away from one burly bearded man. Natasha pointed the pistol at the man, held the grip with both hands and fired. A second man on horseback spun his animal ran and glared at her.

Thinking her a white squaw he kicked his horse towards her. Keeping a steely grip on her fears, Natasha shot the horse in the chest, sending it plummeting head over heals. Seeing they had some help the women closest to Natasha grabbed the man on the ground and beat him with whatever they had at hand. His two remaining companions seeing that the Indians were fighting back decided to make a retreat, but Natasha knew they could not get away. No one could know that the People had killed Whites. Since horses were bigger targets and easier to hit, Natasha aimed for them. When the animals went down, the People took care of the men on them.

An older man ordered the Whites buried where they could not be found, and the horse remains burnt. Nothing was to be kept. No one had to ever know what they had done. It didn’t matter that it was in self-defense or that the Whites had killed two of the People, the White government would punish the People. That was just how it was.

When the men returned with their fresh kills, they heard about the attack with dark grim eyes. Running Horse was particularly furious. Only when he heard from one of the elders that Natasha had stood her ground and shot the man intent on raping Pretty Blue Beads daughter did he calm a little. She had killed one of her own protecting one of the People? Not letting the men escape had also helped the People. Natasha didn’t know what Running Horse was going to do when he approached her, his dark eyes still hard and grim, but a feral smile curled his lips, and he said simply, “Good.”

That evening listening to Running Horse tell one of his stories to a group of friends Natasha was half asleep leaning against James’ side when Pretty Blue Bead’s daughter showed up with something for Natasha. It was a shawl made from traded cloth and traditional ornaments. Natasha knew the girl had been working on it and didn’t feel right accepting it but James nudged her when she started to decline the gift. To decline something offered from the heart was rude among the People. It was beautiful made of blue wool covered with shells and deer teeth. Extra pieces of different colored cloth had been hand sewn on to it to make a traditional pattern.

Natasha hugged the girl and then remembered she had one thing in her possessions that the girl would like, a fancy comb for her hair. Natasha had been wearing it on the train and had slipped it into her saddlebags when she took off with Sam and James. Digging it out of the bag, she presented it to the young girl and kissed her cheek again.

When the girl slipped back out of the lodge, Natasha dared a curious glance towards Running Horse. He was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kewâwiyâmene! - Thank you  
> Ehe nôthe - yes father (Natasha is teasing him) 
> 
> Anyone could be a raider even other Native Americans, but in this instance I made it White Hide Hunters. Tribes that were not a part of the great horse cultures of the Great Plains often came into contact with them and were sometimes go betweens. When two fierce tribes ran into each other there was often conflict as Sam noted in an earlier chapter. The Comanche once rode north and fought the Dakota, and a Kiowa raiding party once went so far into Mexico that they saw monkeys. The safety of these smaller less agressive tribes depended on their neutrality.


	12. Wintercowboy Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story comes to an end. Riding off into the sunset was never more imperative.

Spring was in full force upon the land with wild flowers turning the grasslands into fields of living fire and golden blooms. Everything was reaching for the sky like a congregation praying to God. Fat foals were standing at the sides of thin mares with their heads buried deep in the rising green shoots. Puppies with incessantly wagging tales ran after their mothers while small boys squealed with joy and gave battle to these terrible wolves of the prairie. Young girls wove flowers into their hair and chatted with their friends while older boys and girls made eyes at each other.

Natasha loved it although she did not embrace it as much as James did. He had told her there was semi derogatory term some white people used for men like him…gone Indin or squaw man. Did James have a Native wife somewhere? Maybe a family? Did she even want to know?

Walking along a flower-laden ridge with one of the dogs keeping her company, she tried not to think about too many things aside from the immediate. Spying something or someone moving towards her in the distance, she shaded her eyes with her hand and watched as the one shape turned into two. Sam! And Steve! Sam and Steve! The dog started barking as Natasha took off running towards the two men. They drew rein with big grins on their faces when she joined them. Steve pulled her up behind him and took off for the Sauk and Fox village.

James sitting in the shade of a tree with one of the elders at first didn’t believe what he was seeing. Natasha was sitting on the back of a horse ridden by Steve! 

“You ready to go home?” Sam yelled.

“Fury knows you’re not dead, and we’ve worked up a story to explain your absence,” Steve added as he helped Natasha down first, letting her hold on to his arm while he swung her around into James’ arms. 

“How did you explain my disappearance?” Natasha asked as Steve stepped down.

“You went to join James,” Steve said. “You were also undercover to help foil the assassination attempt on the Grand Duke.”

“You wouldn’t believe all the different ideas they discussed,” Sam laughed.

Natasha knew Sam hated going east and asked, “You went to D.C.?”

“Yeah, sometimes you do dumb things for friends,” he confessed. “Oh, and that little spotted pony is waiting for you in Omaha. He may weigh a thousand pounds now since all he does is eat and shit.”

“Sam,” Steve corrected him. “Ladies.”

“Eat and defecate,” Sam corrected himself with a scowl for Steve. “I dragged that damn nag everywhere behind me. He has seen more country than most people.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Natasha said with an affectionate smile. “She liked the outlaw horse she had taken, but Tuhuya was always in her thoughts.

That evening, James and Natasha’s last evening with the Sauk and Fox, they stayed with Running Horse and his family for the last time. Calf Moon Woman was quiet, as was Nat, because whenever they glanced at each other, they got misty eyed. It was all right for women to be tender hearted, but men were supposed to be stoic. The men told stories about great hunts, including what happened after the Grand Duke left Omaha for Denver.

“They did not use Indian ponies?” Running Horse asked incredulously.

“Not a one,” Sam reiterated. “They used cavalry horses. Those buffs scared the shit out of them!”

“The Grand Duke rode the only Indian pony we still had,” Steve added, of course meaning Tuhuya. “He wheeled in among those buffs like he was born there, while those Morgans and Thoroughbreds went all wall eyed and snorting.”

“Dangerous,” Running Horse surmised. 

“It really got dangerous when some of those horses decided to call it quits in the middle of it,” Steve added, “ but the Duke had a good time.”

“That’s all that matters,” Natasha intoned. Lying beside James later that night, sleep sitting on the other side of the lodge from her, she realized how much she was going to miss the simplicity of this life. Yes, a real bed would be nice…very nice…and a dish with cream sauce would be lovely…but…she rolled on her back and slipped her eyes to the side to gaze at her lover’s sleeping face. He was happy here. Slowly he opened his eyes and gazed at her.

“What?” he whispered.

“I don’t want to go back to things as they were for me,” she replied softly so as not to wake anyone. He smiled and snuggled closer.

“We’ll work something out.”

The next day, carrying only what they could, they saddled their horses and rode out of the village for Omaha. Natasha glanced back and lifted her hand at the only one watching them ride away. She was going to miss Calf Moon Woman.

Omaha was a typical western city that was also the state capital. Soldiers, trappers, cattlemen, preachers and school teachers passed through everyday heading somewhere else. Saloons sprouted down the streets from churches and competed with one another for patrons. The men rode past the saloon although a cold beer sounded good to Sam, but truth be told, Buck could never drink again if he didn’t want to get the cravings. This was why Sam and Steve left him among the Sauk and Fox for so long, to dry him out completely. And if Natasha wanted to help her lover stay dry, she needed to give up the booze as well. 

Arriving at a café that accepted all comers, the four adventurers entered and took a table by the window. Real food. James checked with his friends to make sure they had the money because he sure as hell didn’t.

“Which reminds me,” Steve began and turned to Natasha, “while you were away, Col. Fury and I made sure your investments were protected. I must say you have quite a small fortune.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Buck’s smile fade around the edges. Natasha noticed it too and laid her hand over his without saying anything.

“Fury is supposed to be here,” Sam spoke up as coffee was set on the table.

“He might not be back from the fort,” Steve considered as he read over the menu.

Buck, looking a little worried, asked, “I suppose he wants me to return to Washington as soon as possible.”

“Not necessarily so,” Steve answered and looked up. “He thinks we’d be more effective staying where we are, preventing Indian conflicts.”

“Really?” Buck asked hopefully.

“Yeah, but we need to get it officially from Fury,” Sam said and decided on a hot stack, side order of fried potatoes and fried meat. And that was basically what the boys decided on. Natasha preferred some toast, eggs and fried potatoes. All washed down with a pot of coffee. 

After their late morning breakfast, two days away from the village, Natasha had Steve take her to the bank where they had money transferred to her new account in Omaha. Then everyone scattered to take care of personal business while waiting for Fury to arrive. James and Natasha decided to take a stroll around the town. One of their stops was a tobacco emporium where Natasha bought him some cigars. He accepted them with a sheepish smile. It hurt his pride that he had nothing of his own. 

Continuing down the wooden sidewalk past shoppes and mercantile stories, she thought about something he had once asked her. “James,” she began and slipped her arm through his. “Do you remember what you once asked me?”

“I’ve asked a couple of things,” he said and blew a blue cloud of smoke over his head.

“You asked me to marry you.”

He stopped and gazed down at her. “Yes?”

“I think I want to get married.”

He smiled but did not beam with the enthusiasm that she had hoped for. “I have nothing to give you,” he said softly.

“I have a small fortune,” she reminded him, “if you don’t mind being a kept man, I think we would do well.” Then with a shrug she added, “Besides if Fury wants us to continue trying to keep the peace…”

“Us?” James inquired curiously.

“Of course. You don’t think I will be staying behind, do you?”

“Well, no, I guess not,” he conceded.

“Good. Where can we get married?”

 

Steve and Sam were standing on the sidewalk in front of a recruiting office with Colonel Fury, when they spotted Buck and the Countess, her rough attire traded for something much classier, arm in arm strolling towards them.

“You look happy,” Fury remarked with a frown.

“Just got married,” Buck answered. “The Countess has agreed to make me her charity case.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Sam crowed and planted a kiss on her cheek and offered his hand to Buck.

“Someone has to keep a close eye on him,” Steve said with a big grin and gave her his own kiss. To his friend, he said, “Who would have thought?”

Over supper Fury laid out his plans for the three…no? …four friends. Natasha was not going to spend her marriage waiting for her husband to come home. Besides Native peoples trusted women more than they trusted men. Fury reluctantly agreed to her presence not that he had much choice. He needed Buck out there doing what he was trained to do; if he wanted to drag his wife along, so be it.

The honeymoon was a hotel room complete with clean sheets and clean water. Natasha wanted to keep some of her lacy frillies on, but in his passion to touch her, kiss her, taste her he ripped them off. The woman who had showed him how to enjoy the game as much as the end result, whimpered and mewed beneath his kisses. She threw her head back in ecstasy when he ran his tongue along her sweetest flesh and flicked the glistening pearl. Burying her fingers in his dark hair, she moaned his name and draped her legs over his shoulders. James lifted his eyes and watched her slowly come apart on the tip of his tongue. Intoxicating, the way she cupped her breasts and toyed with her own nipples. He was so hard his cock ached with need. Then she came so hard her muscles tightened in ecstasy around him. As long as she rode the waves of pleasure he stayed with her, and he loved the way she tasted.

When she could take no more, she pushed him away. Rising on his knees, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with need, his cock so hard it hurt. He closed his hand around it, absently waiting for her calm down a little, but that was not to be. Rising on her knees she cupped his chin and drew his lips down for a kiss than ended in a duel of tongues. Her hand replaced his on the swollen shaft for a moment’s time. Natasha wanted to taste him, to swallow him whole. Backing up she kissed her way down his sweaty body, crouching before him and taking his swollen cock into his mouth. He was so primed she didn’t have to do much to get him off. Running her fingers over the velvet skin, cupping his testicles, and stroking the soft skin behind them, she deep throated him while exploring his body. It wasn’t long before he was shuddering violently and thrusting hard down her throat. He collapsed across her back.

Natasha removed his still thick cock from her mouth and purred, “Now that appetizers are over…”

James smiled. “I like how you do this.”

She rose forcing him up and kissed him with a light nibble to his lower lip. “Wait till we get to dessert. I’ve had time to think about this one.”

Natasha turned her cowboy inside out. When there was nothing left to give, while she rested in his arms, he kissed the top of her head and crooned, “You know, Mrs. Barnes, I’m so glad you didn’t give up on me.” 

She snuggled closer and smiled. He would never know how close it came.

Epilogue. 

The four horsemen rode as fast as they could towards the horizon of endless grass while behind them a band of Quahadi Comanche gave chase. Steve peered around at Sam and Buck and asked, “I thought you were friends with them.”

“Want me to stop and ask why they’re chasing us?” Sam asked sarcastically. 

Buck, removing the small cigar from his mouth, added, “Quanah’s been unduly annoyed since Adobe Walls.”

“Would you like me to speak to him?” Natasha offered.

“No, darling, I fear Quanah would just keep you,” James said with a grin. “He’s known to like the ladies.”

Natasha glanced back at the Comanche warrior in the forefront of the pursuing troop. He was fiercely handsome in an ‘I am seriously angry’ sort of way. “We’ll eventually have to talk to him.” 

“Just not today,” James answered and urged his horse to keep running. Natasha on Tuhuya glanced back again and waved at the proud warrior on the white horse.

“James, that isn’t your white horse is it?” she asked curiously.

“Oh hell!” Sam growled. “Now I know why he’s chasing us. That’s that damn horse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the working title was Wintercowboy...and who knows....could come back and check on our gang in the future maybe. This was fun to write...and thanks for following.


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